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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23261509">The Unexpected Date</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/deceptive_serenade/pseuds/deceptive_serenade'>deceptive_serenade</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blind Date, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Late Night Conversations, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:21:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,738</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23261509</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/deceptive_serenade/pseuds/deceptive_serenade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Weasley would never admit it, but being single hasn’t been the most exciting experience of her early twenties. She lets her cousin set her up, but it turns out to be the most dull date in existence. As it happens, Scorpius Malfoy also has a date to escape from, and somehow convinces her to come with him. ScoRose</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Scorpius Malfoy &amp; Rose Weasley, Scorpius Malfoy/Rose Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>143</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One: 8:39 P.M.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter One: 8:29 P.M.</p>
<p>I’m a little out of breath as I reach the bathroom door, barely glancing at the “WOMEN” sign as I push my way in. Though I’m hoping my date doesn’t notice that I’m pretty much running away from him, I also really don’t care.</p>
<p>I nearly trip from these stupidly high heels on my way to the sinks, catching myself on the fancy granite counters. I brace myself and look into the mirror. Lipstick is perfect, dark eyeliner is unsmudged. There isn’t even a hair out of place of my straightened-then-curled-again maroon hair, when it’s normally frizzy at a Miley Cyrus level of Can’t Be Tamed.</p>
<p>Basically, I look pretty fucking hot right now.</p>
<p>For NOTHING.</p>
<p>Surprisingly enough, no one else is in the bathroom, so I chuck off the too-tall heels Lily made me wear and pick them up. I’m practically limping to the couch in the corner of the bathroom (why are there always couches in these fancy places?) because my feet are not even close to being used to the pinching feeling of high heels. I collapse onto the couch and close my eyes.</p>
<p>My cousin Lily means well, but she’s been practically married to her boyfriend, Noah Finnegan, since they were at Hogwarts. And seeing as it’s several years later, we’re twenty-one, and she just wants to see me happy, I understand why she set me up on this blind date, but it was such a disaster.</p>
<p>Where do I begin?</p>
<p>Well, first off, he was thirty minutes late. And as someone who does not tolerate tardiness, this raised one flag in my mind already. People meet up at times for reasons – so no one has to stand around waiting for the other person, getting more nervous and anxious and impatient.</p>
<p>When he picked me up, he introduced himself by immediately hugging me very tightly. And if I didn’t feel violated enough, he took my shock as an opportunity to bring his hands from my waist and slide them slowly over my butt. </p>
<p>And squeezed.</p>
<p>EXCUSE ME, MY BUTT CHEEKS ARE OFF LIMITS.</p>
<p>And before I could shove him away, he turned into a man-child and excitedly dragged me to this restaurant that was so expensive and fancy according to all the Muggles. I care so little about those things and tuned him out, wishing I could just bring pumpkin pasties back to my flat and pig out while the re-reading Witches Brew Mysteries for the millionth time.</p>
<p>But I was stuck with him. I could tell he was panicking at how stony-face and unresponsive I was being, so he told me all about his important job and his wonderful business trips and more bullshit that made want to gag into my salad – that, by the way, he ordered for me.</p>
<p>I groan at the thought of going back and listening to his nasally voice about how rich and important he is and how he has a corner office at the Ministry of Magic. I grab the pillow in the corner of the seat, stuff my face into it and sink into the cushions. If I stay like this long enough, everything will go away, right?</p>
<p>Right.</p>
<p>I hear the bathroom door open so I slide the pillow off my face and into my lap. Miraculously, no lipstick or foundation rubbed off on the white pillow, though let’s be honest, I wouldn’t fess up if it did. I had to think up a plan before I went back there – maybe Confund him, make a run for it? Or maybe –</p>
<p>“Shit.” My eyes fly up to a tall man in front of me… in the women’s bathroom. He looks extremely embarrassed, the red flushing up to his cheeks as he sees me. “Wrong door.”</p>
<p>Wait a second. I know him.</p>
<p>Scorpius Malfoy?</p>
<p>I haven’t seen him since Hogwarts. I haven’t even said more than ten words to him since we were paired in Potions that one time. I was in Gryffindor, he was in Ravenclaw and we didn’t really have any friends in common. He was a good Potions partner, I suppose.</p>
<p>Before I can say a word, he spins around, opening the door. Just as I think he’s stepping out, he rushes back in and slams the door shut. I stand in suspicion. I can hear him swearing under his breath.</p>
<p>“Weasley?” he says, like he can’t quite believe it.</p>
<p>“What are you doing?” I ask, stepping into my heels and placing my hands on my hips. Malfoy is slightly out of breath and wide-eyed as he looks back at me. “This is the lady’s –”</p>
<p>“I know,” he says quickly, cutting me off. Looking back at the door, he seems to make a split second decision and bolts for a stall. Unfortunately, he grabs me along the way and drags me inside.</p>
<p>“What are you –” I’m cut off again by him gently placing his hands on both sides of my arms. He locks the door and looks at me, begging with his eyes. I struggle but he is very strong.</p>
<p>“Shh!” he says frantically, looking back at the door of the stall, as if he could see through it. He looks back at me again, pleading in his expression. “Please – just hold on until she leaves?”</p>
<p>I am about to respond bitingly when I hear the bathroom door open. I clear the click-clack of heels as they make their way to the stall beside ours. The door shuts and we hear as she sits down on the toilet. And then – </p>
<p>FFFFFFTPT.</p>
<p>I meet Malfoy’s frantic gaze and can’t resist silently shaking in laughter. Even he calms a little, mashing his lips together to try not to smile at the loudest fart I’ve ever heard in a public bathroom. The loudest he’s probably heard, too. And it smells.</p>
<p>I’m so mature.</p>
<p>I peer through the crack of the stall as she finishes up and washes her hands. After she exists and the door snaps shut, I shove my way out of the stall. Malfoy immediately holds his palms up apologetically.</p>
<p>“Wait –” He steps in front of the exit. “Rose Weasley, right? Let me just explain.”</p>
<p>I don’t really want to let him explain, but I also don’t really want to go back outside. I glare at him. “Go on.”</p>
<p>“She was…” He glances at the door, as if the Loud Farting Lady was going to come back in again. “My mates set me up with her. I came to the loo so I could see if I could ditch. My mates would never live it down if she told them I’d walked into the women’s bathroom by mistake.”</p>
<p>I snigger. “Oh, so that’s why you trapped me against my free will and made me endure her fart? That’s wonderful.”</p>
<p>“You would’ve told her I was in the bathroom!” he retorts.</p>
<p>I mean, he isn’t wrong.</p>
<p>“Malfoy, it’s not my business if you can’t read the sign.”</p>
<p>He snorts. Actually snorts.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry about it,” I say, rolling my eyes. I grab my purse from the couch and cross my arms against my chest. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to come up with some way to ditch my own shitty blind date. Other than being kidnapped in the loo.”</p>
<p>“You’re escaping your date too?”</p>
<p>“Yup,” I say, side-stepping him. “I didn’t get a good chance to think of an excuse, so I’m just going to –”</p>
<p>“Wait a second,” he interrupts, stepping in front of me again, but he isn’t looking at me. He’s looking at something past me. “Let’s climb out that window.”</p>
<p>I spin around. “What window… wait, no,” I say sharply, turning to him again. “We can’t just ditch our dates by never coming back –”</p>
<p>“Hey, I don’t care if she tells anyone I walked out on her,” he says. “She’s a friend of a friend of a friend. I didn’t bring a coat tonight. Can’t Apparate in a Muggle restaurant. Plus I already checked, and there’s no back entrance. I barely know her.”</p>
<p>I glare at him. “I barely know you.”</p>
<p>He grins and offers his hand. “Scorpius Malfoy. Nice to meet you.”</p>
<p>“I know who you are,” I say, “But –”</p>
<p>“Great!” he says, excitedly stepping by me. I wince as digs his shoe into the pure white couch cushion and hoists himself up. He draws back the curtains and unlocks the window. “Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get out of here.”</p>
<p>I nervously turn back to the bathroom door as Malfoy is opening the window. Miraculously, no one else has come in here, and my date hasn’t come looking for me. And honestly, even if I go back in there and make some excuse to leave, he might not get the message. He is that self-obsessed.</p>
<p>“All right,” I say, making a split-second decision. I take off my heels again – Merlin, that feels good – and nod to Malfoy. “Let’s do it.”</p>
<p>“Awesome,” he says, ducking his head out of the window. I can’t help but notice how good his arse looks in those jeans. </p>
<p>Maybe not the worst decision, after all. </p>
<p>He pushes the rest of himself out the window – very easy for him, as he’s at least six feet tall and we’re on the ground floor – and lands on the pavement outside. I only hesitate for a second longer before scrambling out the window after him, throwing my shoes down first before heading down, feet first. I feel Malfoy’s hands ghosting by my sides to steady me.</p>
<p>Malfoy closes the windows as I slip my feet back into my shoes. We hurry down the alley until we turn onto the main street, making a silent decision to power-walk into the London crowds in case our dates decide to come outside the restaurant. </p>
<p>My thighs are burning, but we make our way down a block before we slow down. Malfoy turns back, easily scanning through faces. “What does your date look like?”</p>
<p>“A loser,” I reply, also turning back to look. “He’s probably too busy counting his Galleons to have caught on.”</p>
<p>He laughs and looks back to me. “Well, it’s half past eight. The night is young. We’ve both been horrible and ditched our awful dates. How about we drink to our success?”</p>
<p>A smile tugs at my lips. I don’t want to admit it, but Malfoy’s laughter is infectious. I don’t remember a lot about him from Hogwarts, but I remember he was quiet and reserved. Never really drew attention to himself. He seems a little different now.</p>
<p>“Okay,” I find myself saying, and something inside me flutters when he breaks out in a delighted grin. “Why not?”</p>
<p>There’s something about him that makes me curious.</p>
<p>A/N: Hey there! I'm new to this website, but I thought I would post here in case anyone doesn't use the other websites. Let me know what you think so far! :)</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two: 8:45 P.M.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Two: 8:45 P.M.</p><p>Malfoy’s grand idea of fun is to drag me to this dingy pub a couple of blocks away. I’m only slightly surprised by the fact that Malfoy would venture to a Muggle bar – we do live in London, which is mostly Muggles – but more surprised by how noisy and cramped it is. And he likes this place.</p><p>“Me and my mates come here all the time,” he’s shouting to me as we make our way to the bar in the back of the pub. A rowdy-looking man stumbles into me and, thankfully, spills only a few drops of beer on my forearm.</p><p>“Why?” I mutter, swiping my arm, half-swearing, half-thankful he didn’t spill the entire thing down the front of my dress. </p><p>What? This dress is new. </p><p>Mostly because I don’t go out very much and have never worn it.</p><p>Malfoy plops down at a booth close to the bar, where it is only slightly quieter than eardrum-splitting levels. I reluctantly sit beside him, placing my purse in my lap. I guess it’s homey, in a sense – warm hardwood floors, dim lighting, the people look like they are enjoying themselves – but I think I would rather be at home.</p><p>“So what will you have, then?” Malfoy asks.</p><p>“Well, I usually have Butterbeer,” I begin, “but that’s not really an option in a Muggle bar...”</p><p>“Really, Weasley?” he challenges, raising an eyebrow. “You can do better than that.”</p><p>I raise an eyebrow right back. “I really can’t.”</p><p>“Shots.”</p><p>“Definitely not.”</p><p>“On me.”</p><p>“I will happily pour them on you.”</p><p>“Just one. That’s it.”</p><p>I swear we have an honest-to-Merlin staring contest, and I hate how he somehow – instinctively – knows that my blood pressure is rising, just by the implication that I won’t do it.</p><p>Malfoy is smirking at me, and I can’t stand it.</p><p>“This is peer pressure,” I mumble as he stands up.</p><p>“This is going to be fun.”</p><p>I stick my tongue out him as he stands, and he only grins widely before heading towards the bar. I press my palms to my face, which is oddly hot. And I’m smiling. Why am I smiling.</p><p>The late date I went on – before tonight, that is – was with a man who exclusively talked about brooms – and that was not a euphemism. Actual Quidditch brooms: how they work, how they’re made and the specs of each model. I like Quidditch as much as the next person, it’s fun to play on a lovely summer afternoon with my cousins, but he was beyond passionate. I couldn’t get a word in.</p><p>The rest of the recent dates I’ve been on went like this. In fact, the last good date I had must have been at Hogwarts, with my ex-boyfriend. On a good ol’ fashioned (lame) Hogsmeade date. The thought makes me groan out loud and bury my head in my hands. </p><p>Maybe I should just get a cat.</p><p>“I am here to save the day,” Malfoy announces as he sets down a small wooden tray on the table. I narrow my eyes at the four tiny shot glasses, filled to the brim with warm, honey-coloured alcohol.</p><p>“You said one.” </p><p>“I definitely said two,” he says in an all-too-innocent voice, but his grin gives it away immediately. He picks one up and gestures forward. “Go on.”</p><p>I take one gingerly. “Did you poison it?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You seem like you would be the type to poison it.”</p><p>“Why would I poison you, Weasley?” he says, amused. “I hardly know you.”</p><p>“Exactly.”</p><p>“Bottom’s up,” he says, reaching forward with his glass. I reluctantly clink my glass with his, and we down our shots together. It burns on the way down, and I am not surprised; last time I did shots was two years ago, at Lily’s eighteenth birthday party. Two years ago.</p><p>I stare at the bottom of the glass. I either need to commit to this cat life or actually do something about my sad state known as the single life.</p><p>“Alive?” he asks, peering at me.</p><p>“Seems so.”</p><p>“Damn,” he says, picking up the next glass and handing it to me. “Well, second time’s the charm.”</p><p>I actually laugh this time before we down the next shot. Malfoy’s eyes are grey-ish blue, and they are glimmering.</p><p>Did I actually just think that?</p><p>I need another drink.</p><p>“So what’s the deal with your date tonight?” I ask, placing my forearms on the table and leaning forward. “Besides the magnificent performance in the toilets, via the flatulence.”</p><p>He laughs. “I dunno. She wasn’t very interesting. I just wasn’t feeling it.”</p><p>“Sounds like the last… every date I’ve gone on.”</p><p>“The way I see it, dating is overrated,” he explains, leaning forward as well. “As soon as you meet a person, you know if you like them. You don’t need to have a full bloody meal of it.”</p><p>“Better to escape through the window,” I say sarcastically.</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>“So why go on the date?”</p><p>“Like I said, my mates set us up,” he says. I raise an eyebrow. He shrugs and adds, “I lost a bet.”</p><p>I laugh. “Amazing. I went on my blind date with hopeful prospects.”</p><p>“Ah, hope,” he says sympathetically. “The fool’s emotion.”</p><p>“Oh, shut up.”</p><p>“So what happened with Prince Charming?”</p><p>“Well,” I say, ticking off my finger, “it started off with him being a full thirty minutes late. Which is just ridiculous if you ask me.”</p><p>Malfoy just stared at me, as if he didn’t understand. I cleared my throat – the bar he chose was rather loud. “I mean, would you wait thirty minutes for your blind date?”</p><p>“Er, yes,” he answered, perplexed. “I did tonight.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I did tonight!” he said loudly over the blaring music. “My blind date was thirty minutes late. No big deal. I was watching the game. Harpies vs. Magpies.”</p><p>I blink at him. “I thought he stood me up. After all that time getting ready.”</p><p>“That’s why you meet old classmates in the loo,” he advises, grinning, “so it’s not all for waste.” </p><p>“Uh huh.” I am starting to feel the drink hitting me and my head feels a little lighter. Malfoy seems encouraged by my reaction – somehow, he is finding me amusing. And I am not amused.</p><p>“So what other crimes did he commit?” he asks.</p><p>I glare at him. “Besides that, he spent the whole evening bragging about his bank account. You’d think he owned all of Gringotts.”</p><p>He seems unfazed. “Well, does he?”</p><p>“He didn't ask me one question about myself,” I continue, ignoring him. “Just, ‘I have the best office at the Ministry,’ ‘You should come see my corner office,’ ‘You should be so glad I’m taking you to this fancy-ass restaurant that you clearly can’t afford!’”</p><p>“Yeah, Weasley,” Malfoy says, not even hiding his grin. “You should be so grateful.”</p><p>I smack his arm lightly with the bank of my hand. “Then he squeezed my butt. Without consent.”</p><p>“Well, I can’t blame him.” I go to smack him again, but he puts his hands up. “Kidding. That’s pretty bad.”</p><p>“I know.” My face is flushing. I’m very warm, or maybe it’s just think drink, or the crowded pub. “So I think I’m going to swear off dating.”</p><p>“No more men,” he announces, like I hadn’t just said it. He stands up. “I’ll drink to that.”</p><p>I look up at him, laughing despite myself. “Thanks for the drinks, but I’m good.”</p><p>“Of course it’s good.”</p><p>“No, I mean, I don’t want anymore. I’m already feeling the first two.” I look at my watch. “I think I might head home.”</p><p>“Oh, come on,” he says, poking my arm. “You can’t get to bed at nine p.m on a Friday night.”</p><p>My face flushes again. “I’m not.”</p><p>“Sorry. Ten p.m.”</p><p>“Malfoy.”</p><p>“You can’t go home yet,” he insists, sitting back down and leaning forward. I get a whiff of his aftershave, or whatever he uses – it’s musky. It’s nice. “We have to meet up with my mates, get deliriously drunk and then I have to show you the best place in London.”</p><p>I’m taken aback. Wait, what? “We’re meeting your mates?”</p><p>“Well, we can’t meet up with them sober.” He’s grinning, like he’s got a plan, like he knows that the thought is making my stomach knot. I don’t really know Malfoy. We’ve barely spoken before. I don’t even know what he’s been doing for the last four years since Hogwarts. I hadn’t really planned on getting drunk tonight.</p><p>But even so… I hate to admit it, but I’m kind of intrigued.</p><p>I don’t really want to go to bed at nine p.m.</p><p>“What’s the best place in London?” I ask.</p><p>He taps a finger to his head. “That’s the surprise.”</p><p>“I –” I’m about to say, I’m not going anywhere until you tell me, when a familiar looking blonde girl catches my eye. She’s behind Malfoy, at the bar, obviously ordering a drink. But she’s looking around.</p><p>And then I realize – for him.</p><p>“Did you tell your date to come here?” I ask slowly.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Don’t look, but she is right behind you.” Despite that, he whips around – and then sinks in his booth, the colour flushing to his face.</p><p>“Shit,” he mumbles to me, “I told her that we might come here after.”</p><p>“Is she looking for you?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” he says, looking horrified. “Is she?”</p><p>I observe her – she’s looking around. She’s sitting at the bar. She’s sipping her drink slowly, clearly waiting for someone.</p><p>“Yes,” I reply, confused. Why would she wait for someone who just ditched her?</p><p>“We gotta run for it,” he says urgently. “I’m not good with women’s angry emotions.”</p><p>I can't help but laugh.</p><p>He turns around quickly to check, and seeing her turn around, he dashes from the booth. Before I know it, he grabs my hand, and I only just take hold of my purse before Malfoy is dragging me through the crowd. I stumble after him, spotting only his wild blond hair through the crowd. I accidentally step on at least three people’s toes.</p><p>“Do you think she saw me?” he asks once we’re outside. He’s a little out of breath. </p><p>“Maybe?”</p><p>“Let’s keep going,” he says, turning and walking at a slightly faster-than-normal pace. He still has my hand. “Maybe if we’re just walking normally, she won’t notice us.”</p><p>But then I spot another familiar someone across the street, and the colour drains from my face.</p><p>“But my date might,” I say, my voice suddenly full of false cheer. Malfoy turns to see what I am looking at, and sees my blind date recognizing me. Holding someone else’s hand after I ditched him.</p><p>And he looks pissed.</p><p>“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mutter, walking faster. My blind date looks like he’s about to cross the street and confront me. I drag Malfoy along, mind racing.</p><p>“Oh no,” he moans, looking back. “She found us too.”</p><p>“What?” I look back, and I see Scorpius’ date as well. Seeing us, and stalking towards us.</p><p>“Whatdowedo?”</p><p>“Idon’tknow!” I whisper hurriedly, looking around. I do not want to deal with this. I am not very good with confrontation. There are Muggles everywhere, and there is no way we could apparate. My hand is sweating in his.</p><p>And then, by some miracle, a red London bus is roaring up behind us. It’s spitting oil as it pulls up to a nearly empty bus stop, save for one tired-looking man entering. I glance at Malfoy for a split second, and then we clamour onto the bus together. I look madly for Muggle change in my purse.</p><p>And another miracle: the bus driver, a burly man, sees me ruffling through the contents of my bag, and decides to drive forward. Like he trusts us.</p><p>Probably a bad idea, because I don’t have any.</p><p>“I can’t believe we just did that.” Malfoy is muttering to himself, looking out the window back at his abandoned date.</p><p>“Malfoy, do you have any change?”</p><p>He snaps out of it, and digs into his pocket. Out come four galleons, two sickles and a twenty-pound note.</p><p>“Umm…”</p><p>“You have to get off at the next stop, then,” the bus driver says, as we obviously haven’t paid. I look back at Malfoy, and he shrugs.</p><p>“At least we’ll have a head start?” he says weakly, grinning at me. I scowl at him.</p><p>This is going to be a strange night.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Three: 9:28 P.M.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Three: 9:28 P.M.</p><p>Two minutes later, the bus lurches as it comes to a stop, about three blocks from where it picked us up. I can literally feel the alcohol sloshing in my stomach as we get off and look around. It's only down the same road and turned a corner, but it leaves me feeling disoriented. Or maybe it was just the shots.</p><p>Merlin, how long has it been since I've gone out?</p><p>Malfoy peers around the corner of the brick wall at the bus stop and looks back, squinting his eyes. "Do you see them?"</p><p>I don't bother hiding and check openly. "Yes…" I catch his eye.</p><p>And then we burst out laughing.</p><p>I'm definitely a little tipsy.</p><p>"Maybe we should just head towards Diagon Alley?" I suggest, still chuckling.</p><p>"Ah…" Malfoy grins guiltily at me, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I can't go to Diagon Alley."</p><p>"Why… not?"</p><p>"The goblins."</p><p>"… at Gringotts?"</p><p>"Yep." I'm looking at him like he has three heads, and he can tell. He clears his throat. "I might be in a little debt."</p><p>"Debt?"</p><p>"And Goblins love to hang around The Leaky Cauldron in the evening, as I've found it."</p><p>I feel my jaw hanging open, so I shut it. "You can't be serious."</p><p>"I am, but let's keep going, because they'll catch up to us," he says, grabbing my arm and pulling me along. A quick look over my shoulder says he's right – they're still following us. Together, now.</p><p>Why are they following us?</p><p>Malfoy takes a turn a block ahead, and I follow him. "My mates are at Coach and Horses."</p><p>I remember it, having passed the Irish Pub before. "What for?"</p><p>"They're in a band and playing a show."</p><p>"A Muggle band?" I say, lowering my voice.</p><p>"Yeah," he says, shrugging. "They said they wanted to expand out of the community."</p><p>We close in on a building painted red, standing out clearly from the rest of the street. "COACH AND HORSES" is boldly written in gold. I glance back and I don't see our dates, so we shuffle in.</p><p>It's a tiny little pub, and as we enter, we immediately squeeze through and find the familiar faces seated at a booth close to a stage. Thankfully, it's not as loud as the other bar Malfoy took me to. I recognize them immediately from Hogwarts – Evan Zabini, Blake Davies and Hitesh Mehta.</p><p>"Scorpius!" Zabini cheers out as we sit down at the booth, next to him. "You almost missed the show."</p><p>"Oi," Davies says loudly, narrowing his eyes. He's sitting with an electric guitar, fiddling with the tuning knobs. "Didn't you just go to dinner with Natasha?"</p><p>They all turn to look at me. I can feel my ears turning red.</p><p>"The fuck, mate," Mehta says, glaring at Malfoy. "You came back with another date? In this climate, I can't even get one."</p><p>"In this climate…?" Malfoy mutters, clearly trying not to laugh.</p><p>I'm looking between the two, confused.</p><p>Wait – am I on a date?</p><p>If I'm on a date, wouldn't he have asked?</p><p>Wait, did he ask?</p><p>"Natasha's going to kill me on Monday," Davies tells him, looking annoyed. "She said this is the first date she's been on in six months."</p><p>"Then why don't you go out with her?" Malfoy shoots back.</p><p>"I like my current girlfriend just fine, thanks."</p><p>"Should've set her up with Hitesh," Zabini puts in, taking a swing of his beer.</p><p>"Should've," Mehta agrees.</p><p>"That's what I said!" Malfoy says, laughing. "But Blake insisted after I lost that bet –"</p><p>"We're trying to convert you, mate," Davies responds, rolling his eyes. "Hitesh's last relationship lasted three years. Yours lasted three hours."</p><p>I look at Malfoy with curiosity, but he's glaring at Davies.</p><p>"What about Evan?" Malfoy shoots back.</p><p>"I'm a lost cause," Zabini says, and everyone nods in agreement. Then he squints at me across the table. He points a long finger in my direction and shakes it. "I know you."</p><p>"Yes mate, we all know her," Mehta says wearily.</p><p>"OH," Zabini says loudly, slamming a fist of the table, making the three pints there shake. "I know. You're the one that Scorpius shagged in the loo at the office Christmas party last year."</p><p>"What?" I sputter out, my face instantly hot, as Malfoy reacts, "No!"</p><p>"Good, she was a screamer," Zabini says drunkenly. Malfoy is choking. "Who the fuck are you, then?"</p><p>"That's obviously Rose Weasley," Davies tells him, smacking him upside the head. "She was the best in our year, even though she's not in Ravenclaw."</p><p>"Oh." Zabini is staring at me, now. "You look different."</p><p>Then everyone at the table is suddenly staring at me – except Malfoy, who just stole someone's pint and is taking a swing – and are clearly annoyed by being reminded that I graduated top of the year. But that was four years ago – who even cares anymore?</p><p>Ravenclaws, I tell you.</p><p>"Well," I say, breaking the silence, "as much as I love being scrutinized, I am definitely not drunk enough for that, so if you'll excuse me…"</p><p>The others laugh as I slip out of the booth, heading towards the bar. They might think I'm joking, but this is way too much social interaction than I'd been intending on experiencing this evening.</p><p>Or ever, if I'm being honest.</p><p>As I'm ordering a pint from the bar, Malfoy comes up beside me. "Make it two, thanks." He slides a note to the bartender.</p><p>"I thought you were in debt?" I say, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>"I have money," he explains, "I just… choose not to give it to the goblins."</p><p>"But you borrowed money from them."</p><p>"I paid them back. I just didn't give them interest." He leans his forearms against the bar. "I don't really believe in interest."</p><p>I am at a loss for words. "Malfoy, interest isn't something you really believe in, it exists regardless."</p><p>"So the goblins tell me," he says, sighing dramatically, running a hand through his messy blond hair.</p><p>"But –"</p><p>"It's not true, by the way," he cuts in suddenly, his cheeks flushing. Though Malfoy is so pale, any colour to him makes him look a little flushed.</p><p>"What's not true?"</p><p>"I didn't shag that bird in the loo at the office Christmas party last year," he recites, as if he's had to say it many times. "That was someone else."</p><p>I'm trying really hard not laugh now. "Well, I was going to ask, what is the deal with you and women in the loo?"</p><p>"It's not true!" he insists. "I took her home with me after the party, like a normal human being."</p><p>I laugh.</p><p>"At least you're a normal human being, Malfoy," I say as the bartender clunks down our beers on the bar. "I was beginning to wonder."</p><p>"Glad I could clear that up for you," he says sarcastically, but he looks a little relieved.</p><p>"So what happened to her?" I ask as we take our pints. "Why aren't you seeing her anymore?"</p><p>"I, uh…" He looks sheepish. "I don't usually do that."</p><p>"Do what?"</p><p>"The whole relationship thing," he says, gesturing indeterminably and looking at the stage. Zabini and Mehta were setting up their gear, along with two others I recognized from Hogwarts – Zoey Harper and Daniel MacMillan.</p><p>"The whole relationship thing," I repeat.</p><p>"Yeah." He takes a large gulp of his beer. "I mean, they're just a lot of work."</p><p>"Er, okay."</p><p>"It has to be worth it," he says, rambling now. "I mean, you saw Natasha, tall and beautiful, but we had nothing in common. And if I didn't get out of there, I know it would just drag on and on and next thing you know, she'll be crying all about how I'm always with my mates and emotionally unavailable and blah, blah, blah."</p><p>I snort. "Don't forget, 'You're always working!' And in your case, 'You don't believe in interest!'"</p><p>"Exactly," he says, grinning at me. "You get me, Weasley." Something swoops in my stomach.</p><p>"Who the fuck doesn't believe in interest," I say distantly, sipping my beer and ignoring that feeling.</p><p>"Scorpius doesn't," says Zabini, coming up behind, beer in hand, slinging an arm around Malfoy's shoulders. "But it is his turn to get our drinks tonight, isn't it?"</p><p>Malfoy groans and shrugs off his arm, but I see him chuckle when Zabini clinks his glass against his. "I suppose it is, mate."</p><p>"I am going to get completely knackered tonight," Zabini says, and I swear it's the only serious thing he's said all evening.</p><p>"Thanks for that," Malfoy says, rolling his eyes. "I'm supposed to be on a date, you know."</p><p>I glower at him, trying to send telepathic messages, but he's clearly not receiving.</p><p>Are we supposed to be on a date? Or does he mean Natasha?</p><p>Do I even want to be on a date with Scorpius Malfoy?</p><p>MALFOY, ARE WE ON A DATE OR NOT?</p><p>Before I can open my mouth to ask, Davies and Mehta are coming up the bar, and then we're ordering shots to calm their nerves. Me, Malfoy and Zabini are not performing, but somehow we're all doing a shot.</p><p>And then another.</p><p>Malfoy winks at me as he downs the last one, and my stomach does that weird swooping thing again.</p><p>Great.</p><p>A/N: Hmmm... do you think they're on a date, or not at all? Let me know what you think! :D</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter Four: 9:59 P.M.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Four: 9:59 P.M.</p><p>Malfoy, Zabini and I are seated at the booth again, the lights are down low, the show is starting, and the band is good. </p><p>They’re playing some sort of indie pop or rock music. Blake Davies is singing and playing the electric guitar in this real melancholic way, Hitesh Mehta is playing the bass, Zoey Harper is on the drums and Daniel MacMillan is standing and playing the keyboard. They’re jumping up and down and they’re really into it, and so is at least half the bar. A crowd is forming in the front, dancing and cheering.</p><p>And then I notice Malfoy’s arm wrapped around my shoulders. When did that happen? </p><p>I can’t deny he’s really attractive. His hair is a mess, but it’s windswept. Sexy. He has sharp, high cheekbones that give him a terribly serious look. But then he smiles, and his teeth are white and straight – and I sound like a dental hygienist – but he has a fantastic smile. </p><p>He notices I’m looking at him and he doesn’t look awkward or sheepish, like I probably would be. This is something I understand about him, now – he’s way too chill. I am the opposite of that. He doesn’t look like he’s nervous at all. </p><p>Instead, he just smiles at me.</p><p>Do I want his arm wrapped around me? Do I want him smiling at me like that?</p><p>Apparently I am sufficiently drunk enough to say yes.</p><p>He leans in. “They’re really good,” Malfoy says loudly in my ear. I feel his lips ghost on my skin, and it makes my spine tingle.</p><p>“They are,” I find myself agreeing. I lean closer – just so he can hear me, don’t get any wild ideas. “How long have they been playing?”</p><p>“A little less than a year.”</p><p>“Amazing.” My eyes are drawn to them. Maybe it’s just the lights and the musical effects, but they really are incredible. I could never go on stage.</p><p>I suppose that’s always my problem, isn’t it? I could never. I work at the Daily Prophet, and after years of dreaming of writing my own novel, or even my own column, I’m still stuck in menial editing. I could never pluck up the courage to do something great – not like my parents, who saved the bloody wizarding world.</p><p>Some Gryffindor I turned out to be.</p><p>Malfoy nudges me. “What’s up?”</p><p>I snap out of my trance. “Oh, nothing.”</p><p>“You zoned out for a second, there.”</p><p>“Just thinking…” I glance at him, and he’s leaning very closely again. To hear me, of course – it’s just very loud. “… Just thinking how many cats I should get before my official designation as a cat lady.”</p><p>“Oh yes,” he says in my ear, looking amused. “You’re swearing off men.”</p><p>“Maybe I’ll adopt one Thursday after work,” I say, half-serious. I mean, I do love cats.</p><p>Malfoy he chokes on his beer. “Next Thursday? It’s Friday. I don’t have anything planned for tomorrow morning, let alone well into next week.”</p><p>“You actually will be fully hungover tomorrow morning,” I remind him. Which reminds me that I should cancel my plans tomorrow, since I might be hungover as well.</p><p>“I don’t get hungover,” he dismisses.</p><p>“Besides,” I say, leaning back into my seat – into his arm – whatever. “Monday after work I have choir, Tuesday nights I cook dinner with my cousin Albus, Wednesday I have a yoga class, so…” I shrug. “Thursday.”</p><p>He blinks at me. “Do you plan everything, Weasley?”</p><p>His tone makes me defensive. I cross my arms against my chest. “No.”</p><p>“Do you have a planner? Do you write in it every night before bed?” he teases.</p><p>“No,” I lie, my face reddening. </p><p>The corner of his mouth twitches, and in a flash, he has grabbed my purse and is rifling through it before I comprehend what is happening. I seize it back, but he has pulled out my slim, black leather notebook and is flipping through.</p><p>“You’re into bullet journaling?” he says, grinning.</p><p>“Give that back,” I snap, snatching my journal back and stuffing it into my purse. My face is burning. “I just like being organized, okay?”</p><p>“Okay, okay,” he said, putting his hands up. I can tell he’s trying so hard not to laugh.</p><p>“There’s nothing wrong with it.”</p><p>“Nothing at all,” he says, still smiling. Then he pauses. “It’s actually kind of cute.”</p><p>And then I’m blushing again. </p><p>Goddammit, Malfoy.</p><p>“You’re gonna make me sick,” Zabini mutters from across the table. He’s been watching the band this entire time, but now he’s rolling his eyes at us and grabbing his pint as he stands up and moving towards the stage.</p><p>“Well, that was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” I mumble, embarrassed.</p><p>Malfoy just laughs. “You’re so dramatic, Weasley.”</p><p>“Says the one who hid in the women’s bathroom from his hot date.”</p><p>“All in a day’s work,” he says, still chuckling.</p><p>“Git.”</p><p>He shakes his head, still laughing as he drains the last of his beer. “So, I know this isn’t in your planner –”</p><p>“We are never speaking of that again –”</p><p>“But would you like to dance?” he finishes.</p><p>I pause, surprised. “Only if you tell me something,” I find myself saying.</p><p>“What’s that?”</p><p>“If this is a date or not.”</p><p>He looks surprised, at first. And then my stomach drops out as – I kid you not – the most wicked grin spread across his face. For all my talk about cats, I think I might be dealing with a Cheshire one.</p><p>“Can’t say until we’ve danced,” he says, standing up decisively.</p><p>“No, I definitely asked first –” But he cuts me off by grabbing my hand and pulling me out of my seat and leading me to the crowd. And just the way my nightmares always start, band starts to play a slow song right at that second.</p><p>I groan as Malfoy tugs me close. “What?”</p><p>“I want out of this cliché movie, please.” My mum introduced me to loads of Muggle things, including movies.</p><p>“What’s a movie?” he asks, confused.</p><p>“Nothing.” But he looks at me expectantly, so I get on my toes so I can reach his ear. “It’s a Muggle thing. Like a story, but with moving pictures.”</p><p>“Oh,” he says, hiding a smile, and somehow his arms are around my waist and mine are on his shoulders. We’re swaying along to music in a crowd of people, so this must be dancing. “I see.”</p><p>“Yeah. So are we on a date, or –”</p><p>“What kind of cat are you getting?” he interrupts knowingly, smirking.</p><p>“Umm,” I say, caught off guard. “Not sure. Haven’t thought that far yet.”</p><p>He sighs disappointedly. “Weasley, you’re slacking.”</p><p>I stick my tongue out at him, and he laughs. Malfoy has a nice, full laugh, and it makes my cheeks hot for some reason. Or maybe it’s because his arms are around my waist, and it’s been a long time since anyone has done that. </p><p>Still smiling, he brushes a curl from my warm cheeks and behind my ear. I’m feeling nervous all over again.</p><p>The song changes then, a faster one now, and Malfoy breaks away from me and starts to dance – along with the rest of the crowd, admittedly. I’ll admit this is a little out of my comfort zone, and he can tell.</p><p>He grabs my hands and moves them upwards. “Come on!”</p><p>“I can’t dance,” I say, laughing nervously.</p><p>“Neither can I!” He lets go and jumps around, one foot to another, hand in the air, and he’s not so great. It’s true. But this time when he grabs my hands, I let him pull me in, and suddenly we’re doing this kind of awkward dancing together. And I guess it’s okay, since literally everyone else is pretty terrible, too. Except Zabini, who comes to join us at one point, he’s actually pretty good.</p><p>If Malfoy asks, I’ll never admit it – but it’s actually kind of fun.</p><p>Oh dear Merlin, who even am I?</p><p>It’s not too long before we’re a little sweaty and a slow song comes in. Malfoy takes my waist again, and maybe it’s just the alcohol or adrenaline, but my arms around his neck now, and we’re pressed pretty close together.</p><p>“Weasley, you’re not so bad at this,” he tells me, and I laugh in disbelief.</p><p>“You don’t have to lie to me,” I say, shaking my head.</p><p>“I’m not lying!” he insists. “You have a sense of rhythm. You dance on the beats.”</p><p>“Oh, yes. That thing you keep missing.”</p><p>“I can admit it,” he says, smile dropping. “I’ve lost my sense of rhythm. Can’t find it anywhere.”</p><p>I snort. “You’re ridiculous.”</p><p>“It’s a serious matter!” he says, breaking his façade and laughing.</p><p>I shake my head, looking down at my feet. At ours. We’re still swaying side-to-side, back-and-forth. I can’t believe he got me this drunk and got me to dance. “You’re different than I thought you’d be.”</p><p>“Really?” he asks, surprised.</p><p>“Yeah.” I look back up. “I mean, you were this kind of quiet Ravenclaw back then. Did you ever even get a detention?”</p><p>“Did you?” he questions back.</p><p>“I mean, yeah?” I say, cheeks getting warm again. I had my fair share of getting caught sneaking out at night, especially since Albus would never share his Invisibility Cloak. There was a couple of times studying late at the library, then once when I snuck out to snog this bloke in the Astronomy Tower. I thought it was tremendously romantic, back then.</p><p>Okay, I still think that, but don’t tell anyone.</p><p>“Wow, Rose Weasley,” he says in a low voice, leaning in. “Closet rebel.”</p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p>“I’m going to call you Rebellious Rose from now on.”</p><p>“You do that,” I say, feeling my ears red and burning, “and then you die.”</p><p>“Rebe – ow!” he complains, letting go of me when I step on his foot with the back of my heel.</p><p>“I wasn’t kidding,” I tell him, shrugging.</p><p>“Bloody hell,” he mumbles, looking down at his shoe, moving his foot back and forth. He glances up at me, mouth open, clearly going to say some other clever thing, but then his eyes glance past me. “Oh, shit.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Natasha’s here,” he says in disbelief. I spin around and see her at the door – though she hasn’t seen us, the bar is so crowded and the lights are pretty dim. Then I see my own date come through the door after her.</p><p>“How did they find us?”</p><p>“No idea,” he says, and then without warning, he grabs my hand and pulls me further into the crowd. I nearly trip on my stupid high heels – why did I wear these again?</p><p>“Please don’t tell me we’re going to escape out another bloody window,” I tell him, only half-joking.</p><p>“Can’t,” he says, still looking out for Natasha. “Pretty sure the loo is in the basement.”</p><p>Oh, great.</p><p>People are looking at us strangely, and I can’t blame them; our backs are to the stage, we’re not dancing and we look like we’re kind of lost. I think we might be drawing more attention to ourselves then blending in the crowd.</p><p>And then Natasha looks straight at us – thanks Malfoy, for being annoyingly tall with striking blond hair – and heads towards us.</p><p>Next thing I know, we’re wrestling our way through the crowd and escape on the opposite side of the bar. Malfoy’s looking a bit like a deer in the headlights, so I find an empty table and pull him down to hide underneath.</p><p>I’m the epitome of mature, I know.</p><p>But it works, because Natasha is suddenly looking around. She’s lost sight of us.</p><p>“Your girlfriend is a stalker,” I tell Malfoy, trying not to laugh.</p><p>“She’s not my girlfriend,” he retorts, running a hand through his hair. “Blake must have told her about his show.”</p><p>“And now she’s going to stalk you for the rest of your life,” I say sympathetically. He shoots me an annoyed look. “Why don’t you just talk to her, get it over with?”</p><p>“Nah, I’m good,” he dismisses immediately, and I almost laugh.</p><p>“Come on, Malfoy. Face your fears.”</p><p>He leans his head again the table. “There’s got to be a back door in this place. Maybe through the kitchen, or something?”</p><p>And without waiting for an answer, he ducks out from underneath the table and heads behind the bar. It takes me a second to follow, and I run to catch up with him. When we get to the kitchen door, he straightens up, takes my hand, and goes straight through. We walk straight through to the back door, and no one questions it.</p><p>“How did you do that?” I ask when we emerge into the little alley.</p><p>“Do what?” he asks, slumping against the wall, a little out of breath.</p><p>“Just like. Pretend you’re, you know –” I’m stammering, and he’s looking at me, amused.</p><p>“Supposed to be there?” he guessed, and I nod. “I dunno. It’s easy.”</p><p>I let out a long breath. My vision is starting to feel fuzzy. “I think I’m drunk.”</p><p>“You are definitely drunk.” He pauses a moment. “And so am I.”</p><p>“And I’m starving,” I confess. “Let’s find some food.”</p><p>“Far away from here,” he adds eagerly, and I roll my eyes. I don’t like the idea of facing our blind dates either, but this is going a little overboard. Malfoy can’t handle confrontation at all.</p><p>And it’s kind of hilarious.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter Five: 10:46 P.M.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Five: 10:46 P.M.</p><p>It takes me approximately thirty seconds to give up on being drunk and wearing high heels.</p><p>Malfoy just stares at me as I kick them off and spread my toes. The pressure comes off my feet for the first time in what feels like six hours, and I let out a long breath and close my eyes. My ears are ringing from the loud music in the bar.</p><p>“Er…” he says uncertainly. “Are we going to move, or are you just going to be barefoot in the middle of the dirty alley?”</p><p>“I can’t hear you,” I mumble, leaning against the wall. “My feet have been tortured for the last two hours, and they’ve finally found freedom. Give them some respect.”</p><p>I open my eyes and Malfoy is still staring at me, lips twitching.</p><p>“Do me a favour?” I ask before turning my back to the main road and looking to my shoes. “Block the view of the main road?”</p><p>Without waiting for an answer, I take out my wand from my bra – don’t judge me – and transfigure them into little black flats. It’s not the best job, since they’re still a little lumpy, but when I put them back on, it feels loads better than high heels. </p><p>Note to self: never again.</p><p>“That’s pretty smart, actually,” Malfoy says as I tuck my wand back in. “Every women I’ve ever known complains about high heels.”</p><p>I flush. “I didn’t exactly plan on being in them all night.”</p><p>“You mean it wasn’t in your planner?” he asks, grinning. I give him a tiny shove and he laughs.</p><p>“I’ve decided where we’re going to eat,” I announce, leading our way to the main road. “Follow me.”</p><p>“Yes, miss,” he says cheekily.</p><p>If I didn’t know the location of my favourite taco truck like the back of my hand, I probably would be very confused to where I’m going. This is quite sad, since it’s literally just down the road. My feet feel like they are singing as we make our way down the cobblestoned streets.</p><p>My stomach gives the first rumble of the night, loud enough that Malfoy hears.</p><p>“Jeez, Weasley,” he says, looking sideways at me.</p><p>“My date ordered me a salad for dinner,” I tell him. Why am I even telling him this? I don’t have to justify being hungry. “He didn’t even ask me if I wanted one.”</p><p>“Amateur,” he scoffs.</p><p>“You can see why I’m swearing off men,” I say, a little bitterly. “My last few dates have all been kind of like that.” </p><p>Except this one. If it is a date, anyway.</p><p>“Well, you know I don’t date,” he replies.</p><p>“You don’t do relationships,” I repeat his line from earlier. “Never been in one, then?”</p><p>“Nope.” He puts his hands in his pockets. “I don’t believe in them. Anyone who does is kidding themselves.”</p><p>I pause. “That’s a pretty hard stance on something you’ve never experienced.”</p><p>For a moment, he goes quiet, and I think I’ve hit a nerve. Then he says, “That’s actually kind of insightful for someone who can’t walk straight.”</p><p>“Thanks for that,” I retort, dropping my gaze down to my lumpy flats. Shit, am I really not walking properly? I can’t even tell.</p><p>He laughs and puts his arm around my shoulders, steadying me.</p><p>And it’s kind of nice.</p><p>“Let’s go faster,” I say, picking up the pace. “My need for tacos is outweighing this conversation.” He chuckles.</p><p>As we near the next intersection, we see the line up of food trucks parked along the road. Next to them is some significant historical statue with benches scattered around. Unsurprisingly, it’s reasonably busy for a Friday night, even though it’s nearly eleven.</p><p>Malfoy hesitates as we line up in front of the truck. “I’ve never had one of these.”</p><p>“Really?” I ask, surprised. “Spain’s not too far.”</p><p>“I’ve never been to Spain,” he says, still staring at the menu.</p><p>I end up ordering both of us a couple of chicken tacos each, plenty of toppings and loaded with cheese. I grab some water for myself as well – would have gotten one for Malfoy, but he claims he can handle his drink. My mouth is watering by the time our tacos arrive, and I barely plop my arse down on the bench before taking my first bite.</p><p>“This is heaven,” I tell him, my eyes closing to appreciate every single flavour. “This is heaven, I have found it, it is in my hands.”</p><p>“And then in your stomach,” Malfoy adds, sitting beside me. His pants-covered leg grazes my bare knee.</p><p>I watch him as he takes his first bite. He’s contemplating as he chews, swallows, and takes another bite. He lets out a quiet, low groan that affects me more than I’m willing to admit.</p><p>Maybe it really has been too long since I’ve been with someone.</p><p>… or maybe that’s the alcohol talking.</p><p>“You know,” he says after he’s finished the first taco, “this isn’t the type of place I thought you would choose.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah, I thought it would be more classy,” he says. “You know, chandeliers, flowers, tablecloth.”</p><p>“Tablecloth makes a restaurant classy?” I say sceptically.</p><p>“In my professional opinion, yes.”</p><p>I chuckle and shake my head, which makes me a little dizzy. “You mean like where Norman took me tonight.”</p><p>Malfoy looks flabbergasted. “Your date’s name is Norman?”</p><p>“Yes…”</p><p>“That’s not even a real name.”</p><p>I burst out laughing.</p><p>“So why don’t you like fancy restaurants, then?” Malfoy asks, beginning his second taco. “Everyone else seems to like them just fine.”</p><p>“I mean, I don’t mind them,” I clarify. The contents of his taco come spilling out the other end, and he swears under his breath. “They’re okay. But they’re just so stifling. You can’t get more obvious or cliché.”</p><p>“Oh yes, being cliché is quite a serious condition,” he says mockingly, trying to put his taco back together.</p><p>“It’s just…” I let out a breath. “I dunno. I always imagine it’s the ordinary moments that matter the most. I’m kind of simple like that.”</p><p>He pauses. “That also sounds cliché as hell.”</p><p>“Yes, but less annoying.”</p><p>Malfoy shakes his head, amused. “So you sit around reading your romance novels and then hate it in real life?”</p><p>“Nothing wrong with romance novels, okay?” I defend, my cheeks reddening. I finish my tacos and dust off my hands.</p><p>“I didn’t say that,” he says. He hesitates before saying, “I love to read, actually.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“But I’m only telling you because your taste in books is more embarrassing than mine.”</p><p>“Fuck off,” I say, and he laughs. “What kind of books do you like?”</p><p>He puts down his broken taco. “History. Fiction and non-fiction. How did you eat this thing so cleanly?”</p><p>I shrug, smiling. “Practice. And Malfoy, all Ravenclaws like to read.”</p><p>We go back and forth on the bestsellers for this year – “What do you mean you haven’t read Witch’s Brew Mysteries?” I ask in horror – while finishing our food. I drink my water until my head doesn’t feel like it’s spinning anymore, which is a little relief.</p><p>“So, Rebellious Rose –” Malfoy begins, and I glare at him.</p><p>“I thought we were never going to mention that again.”</p><p>“– I am forever indebted to you for introducing me to tacos.”</p><p>I drain the last of my water bottle and swallow. “A simple thank you would have sufficed.” </p><p>“What’s the fun in that?” he says, grinning and dropping an arm around my shoulder again. He keeps doing that, and honestly, I’m not going to complain, because it’s a little chilly now that it’s late.</p><p>“Does this mean you’re finally going to tell me what’s the best place in London?” I ask. I actually am curious about it, and he hasn’t even hinted at it at all.</p><p>“What do you think it is?” he asks instead.</p><p>I falter. “Erm. You might think it’s boring.”</p><p>“I won’t.”</p><p>I’m caught off guard by his sudden sincerity.</p><p>“Okay, don’t tell me,” he says, shrugging. His leg is pressed up against mine – was he always this close? – and it’s a little overwhelming, being tucked into him. “We’ll just go.”</p><p>I clear my throat. “To my favourite place in London?”</p><p>“Yeah. Right now. And then I’ll show you mine.”</p><p>I pause.</p><p>Even if I’ve spent the last couple of hours with him and Malfoy is more fun than I would have ever expected, my favourite place in London is like sharing a piece of my soul. Not like my favourite book or colour or anything stupid like that, but my happy place. Do you show your happy place to a stranger?</p><p>Malfoy doesn’t really feel like a stranger anymore. But isn’t he?</p><p>I stall. “That depends.”</p><p>“On what?”</p><p>“You haven’t told me whether this is a date or not.”</p><p>He breaks out in a grin, clearly having forgotten about that. “Ah… the mystery.”</p><p>“It wouldn’t be if you told me,” I joke, but I’m pretty sure I know the answer. I mean, it doesn’t really matter how attractive I find him, does it? He doesn’t do relationships, and he doesn’t date.</p><p>He regards me for a moment. “If I kiss you, would you have an answer?”</p><p>Oh.</p><p>I wasn’t expecting that.</p><p>My heart gives me away like the traitor it is. “I suppose.”</p><p>Malfoy’s eyes drop to my lips. “I’m sensing a but…”</p><p>“But I’m not doing this if the best place in London ends up being your bedroom.”</p><p>He practically throws his head back laughing.</p><p>“No, Weasley,” he says, eyes bright and alive. He’s so warm, so close. “But that’s not a bad idea.”</p><p>“Not my thing,” I say feebly, barely convincing myself. I mean, it’s not the worst idea. It really has been a long fucking time, and my lady bits practically have cobwebs. </p><p>But Malfoy doesn’t do relationships.</p><p>But somehow, I’m not pulling away.</p><p>In the end, it’s him leaning back, tilting his head and looking at me. He can clearly sense my hesitance. “Nah, I’m not going to kiss you yet.”</p><p>“No?” Yet?</p><p>“Too cliché. You wouldn’t be able to handle it.”</p><p>I laugh, despite myself.</p><p>“You don’t do relationships,” I find myself saying, a little too candidly for my taste, “and I don’t do casual.”</p><p>He grins at me. “I like you, Weasley.”</p><p>My cheeks flush and I look down – and then I see it. Malfoy insisted on paying for everything, so I just realized that I’m missing a very essential item that’s usually wrapped around my shoulder.</p><p>“Shit,” I mumble, twisting around. “I think I left my purse in the bar.”</p><p>He pulls away, looking about for it. “Evan was sitting there. It’s probably still there.”</p><p>“I have to go back and get it,” I say, wringing my hands in panic and standing up.</p><p>“Well you go ahead, I’ll see you later,” he jokes, leaning back in his seat and putting his hands behind his head.</p><p>I glare at him.</p><p>He heaves a long sigh. “All right, let’s get your purse, then.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“And then I’ll show you the best place in London.”</p><p>“So you keep saying,” I mutter. </p><p>I catch him looking away, hiding a smile.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter Six: 11:07 P.M.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Six: 11:07 P.M.</p><p>It's not long before we see the bright red front of the bar again. As we get closer, I realize Zabini is outside, leaning against one of the windows, smoking a cigarette. He nods when he sees us.</p><p>"Where were you off to?" he says as we approach him.</p><p>"Weasley was introducing me to this amazing food called tacos," Malfoy says, and I smile to myself.</p><p>I head into the bar and locate my purse in our booth immediately. The band is still playing to a full crowd and I see Natasha watching them, but not Norman. Maybe they gave up on us. Hopefully.</p><p>When I go back outside, I see Malfoy grab Zabini's cigarette and throw it to the ground, smashing it under his shoe. Zabini barely looks bothered, as though it happens all the time.</p><p>"You wouldn't happen to have another cigarette, would you Weasley?" he asks, and I shake my head.</p><p>"I don't smoke."</p><p>"Shame," he says, sounding disappointed. "Scorpius, I need you to do me a favour."</p><p>Malfoy looks wearily at him. "What's that?"</p><p>"I need you to be my wingman. This girl invited me to this rooftop pool party."</p><p>"Uh…" To my surprise, Malfoy looks at me questioningly. "Do you feel like a detour?"</p><p>"I guess?" I reply, shrugging. My plans have already gone to shit, anyway. I don't even know where we're supposed to be going.</p><p>A few minutes later, we're following Zabini and this Muggle girl, Ava, to a hotel nearby. She waves us through the lobby to an elevator, and she wasn't kidding; it was a full-blown pool party, the music was blaring and people were lounging in and out of the pool, around a bar and several beach chairs.</p><p>Zabini immediately leads Ava to the bar, and Malfoy turns to me. "Feel like a drink?"</p><p>"No…" I'm mesmerized by the pool, bright blue in all its chlorine glory. "I feel like it's been ages since I've gone swimming."</p><p>"Same here." He looks sideways to me. "Feel like going in?"</p><p>"No chance," I say, but I find myself walking towards the pool. I slip off my lumpy shoes and sit at a clear spot on the edge, dipping my legs and feet in. Malfoy sits besides me, rolling up his pants and doing the same.</p><p>"This kind of reminds me of last summer," Malfoy tells me, also rolling up his sleeves. "We went to a bunch of these."</p><p>"Sounds fun," I say, looking at him. "I'm not much of a party person."</p><p>"Evan likes to drag us around," he says, glancing at Zabini at the bar. He's chatting with Ava, who, if I'm going to be honest, is way too pretty for him. "He always gets us out, since we're usually too busy or tired to do anything otherwise."</p><p>"You all seem pretty close."</p><p>"Sure." He looks back to me. "What about you? Were you planning on meeting up with friends tonight?"</p><p>"Not really." And I'm not really sure why I tell him, "I don't really have friends. I'm not great at making them."</p><p>He raises an eyebrow. "Any?"</p><p>"I have a lot of cousins," I explain, as though it's a good explanation.</p><p>"Ah."</p><p>"We're all pretty close," I say, "and I see them all the time. I suppose they're obligated to like me, but I like to imagine I'm not terrible company."</p><p>He leans back on his hands, tilting a head towards me. "You're reasonably entertaining, I'd say."</p><p>"That sounds like a compliment," I tease.</p><p>"Of course not," he says, grinning. "So they're the ones who set you up tonight?"</p><p>"Yeah, my cousin Lily works with him." I let out a sigh. "Honestly, it's not the first time she's set me up and it's gone badly."</p><p>"What are you looking for, anyway?" he asks, kicking his feet in the water.</p><p>"I dunno." I'm lying. "Someone who isn't a wanker?"</p><p>"That's specific."</p><p>I look at a couple across the pool from us, swimming and splashing each other. "I mean, someone who doesn't make it all about jobs and career. Norman couldn't stop talking about all the stuff he could buy. I wish he would have brought up food or music or books or something so we could have a normal conversation."</p><p>"Sounds like a wanker," Malfoy observes, and I laugh. "The whole romance thing seems like a waste of time to me. Isn't the divorce rate like flipping a coin?"</p><p>I nod. "Yup, fifty percent chance of it working out."</p><p>"Seems like we'd all be doing better if we just relaxed and had a little fun."</p><p>"Romance is fun," I argue, and he laughs. "Come on. Dates in Hogsmeade, sneaking out to snog at night, lazy Sundays in bed, those inside jokes… you know, actually clicking with someone?" I shake my head. "Nothing like it."</p><p>He just shrugs.</p><p>Okay, Malfoy, we can agree to disagree.</p><p>"So what else have you been up to since school?" I ask, changing the subject. "You know, other than having fun and being in debt?"</p><p>"Not much," he says, still chuckling. "Learned how to cook, I guess. I was broke as hell."</p><p>I look at him curiously. "Don't you come from… you know, a shitload of old money?"</p><p>"Ah, yeah…" He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "Not something I'd like to revisit."</p><p>"… revisit your family?" I say, entirely confused now.</p><p>"Yeah, I don't talk to them." I have a feeling he wouldn't have told me without all the alcohol – he looks uncomfortable. "Haven't for years. We got in an argument after I graduated."</p><p>I hesitate before asking. "About what?"</p><p>"Oh, you know," he says, staring at the water. "They think I should keep some family traditions going that I don't believe in. Turns out not wanting to marry my third cousin because they're pureblood or not living in the Malfoy Manor means I get disowned."</p><p>I am speechless. "Shit, Malfoy."</p><p>"I'm over it," he says, shrugging again, but I think he's lying. "It was a long time coming. I've been arguing with them since I got Sorted into Ravenclaw."</p><p>"That's a long time."</p><p>"That's why I'm in debt, by the way," he continues, like he hadn't heard me. I can't really tell, but he must be much more drunk than I thought. "I had to borrow a ton of money when I moved out."</p><p>"Shit," I repeat, not really trusting my own words right now. "That sounds…"</p><p>"Would you also mind not repeating that to anyone else?" he asks sheepishly.</p><p>"That sounds awful," I finish, feeling my forehead crease in concern. No wonder Malfoy doesn't believe in romance.</p><p>He stares at me. "My friends said, 'Good riddance.' My family isn't that popular."</p><p>"Well, fuck that," I say, confused. "I'd be so lost without my family. They're annoying at times, but…" I swallow thickly. "They're home."</p><p>Malfoy leans forward and tucks my hair behind my ear. "Please don't look at me like that."</p><p>"Like what?"</p><p>"You know." He looks at me closely. "My family was never home for me. It was cold and tiring. I have a job and my mates now."</p><p>"Sure," I say, still feeling sorry for him.</p><p>He leans closer and says in a low voice, "If you don't stop looking at me like I lost my puppy, I am going to push you in the pool."</p><p>I narrow my eyes and grip the edge of the pool. My heart is racing all of a sudden. "You wouldn't."</p><p>"I would love to see it," he says, the mirth returning to his eyes as he puts his hands on the ground on either side of me. "That dress clinging to your – oi!"</p><p>Turns out, Malfoy doesn't have great balance.</p><p>Or, I may have shoved him a little. Towards the direction of the pool.</p><p>Hey, he deserved it.</p><p>He emerges a moment later, and I might be laughing. He slicks his hair back and blinks the water from his eyes as he stands, the water coming to his chin. The bright blue pool reflects around him, making him look a little green in the face.</p><p>"I can't believe you did that." He's out of breath, but he's smiling.</p><p>I splash him with my foot. "You're clearly drunk and just fell in," I claim, feigning innocence.</p><p>"Only one of those statements is true," he says indignantly. "Fuck. It's freezing in here."</p><p>"Should've thought about that before you lost your balance," I tease – but I probably shouldn't have said that, because in the next second, he grips my hands and pulls me in with him.</p><p>Honestly, I should've seen that coming.</p><p>The water is cold, and it reminds me of swimming in the neighbourhood pool in the summer. I spit water as I come up for air, treading water – I hadn't realized we were in the deeper end of the pool, and I can't touch the ground. I feel Malfoy's arms come around my waist, holding me up as I swipe at my eyes.</p><p>"Fuck, you were right," I stammer, feeling considerably more sober now. "It's so cold."</p><p>"I'm always right," he says, laughing. "I think I'm having an influence on you."</p><p>"Excuse me?" I ask, still trying to catch my breath.</p><p>He leans in, speaking in a low voice. "You're drunk at a party and just pushed someone in a pool. And then you laughed about it."</p><p>"You deserved it," I tell him, sticking my chin up.</p><p>"Probably," he agrees, "but can you imagine what Head Girl Rose Weasley would have to say about this?"</p><p>"Oh, shut up," I retort, splashing him gently. He ducks and laughs again, still holding me.</p><p>I hate to admit it, but… he's not wrong. This is the most fun I've had in ages.</p><p>Not that I'd tell him that.</p><p>The water starts to feel warmer now that I've gotten used to it, and I dip my head back to smooth my hair. That's when I remember – my hair must be completely ruined now. Not to mention my makeup.</p><p>"Looks like my hair's ruined," I say, wiping off the residue of mascara left on my eyelashes. "It took forever to style it."</p><p>"You styled it for Norman?" he teases.</p><p>"Jealous?" I counter.</p><p>"I can't be jealous of someone whose date just ditched him," he points out. "Besides, your hair looks fine."</p><p>"Not when it dries. It will become a curly, frizzy mess. Like how it looked when I was Head Girl," I joke. I wish my hair looked half-normal, but it basically has a life of its own.</p><p>"It's fine," he says. I involuntarily squeak as he shifts us over, my back hitting the pool wall. His hand comes up and wraps around the ends of my hair around his finger. "It's so much longer than back then."</p><p>"Um, I guess." I'm out of breath all over again – he's really close. And he's made clear that he wants to kiss me, but the jury is still out whether I want to kiss him. I mean, I do want to kiss him. But should I?</p><p>Wait, did I actually just think that?</p><p>He's still got me pressed against the wall, one hand on my waist, one hand playing with my hair, my dress riding up in the water. Either Malfoy is an arsehole and is teasing me, or he doesn't notice that my heart is racing again. I'm betting the former.</p><p>Then he smirks at me. "You're cute when you're nervous."</p><p>Yup, arsehole.</p><p>"I'm not nervous," I manage, laughing. Oh Merlin, even my laugh sounds nervous. "I just can't breathe underwater."</p><p>"You're not underwater."</p><p>"Not yet. You're unpredictable."</p><p>"Just relax," he says, looking amused. "This isn't a bloody exam –"</p><p>There's a loud commotion and we turn our heads. A small argument broke out at the bar, and we look just in time to see Ava dump her drink on Zabini's head and storm away from him. He slumps against the bar, soaked.</p><p>Malfoy groans, dropping his forehead against mine. "I have to go rescue him."</p><p>"Er, yes," I breathe out.</p><p>He sighs heavily before letting go of me and hoisting himself out of the pool. He turns back and gives me a hand up. We are dripping onto the floor, but we can't do a drying spell until we're away from all the Muggles.</p><p>We get to Zabini, who has moved off to a pile of blue-and-white striped towels off to the side of the bar. He's drying himself off and swearing under his breath, until we walk up to him.</p><p>He eyes us wearily. "What happened to you two?"</p><p>"What happened to you?" Malfoy counters, grabbing a towel and handing it to me before taking one. "I thought you were trying to get with her.</p><p>"That just went swimmingly," Zabini retorts sarcastically, wiping his face. "Speaking of swimming, you're supposed to use bathing suits. Did no one ever tell you?"</p><p>"It was an accident," I tell him, wrapping the towel around my shoulders. Zabini starts looking me up and down – making me feel real comfortable, thanks – until Malfoy smacks him upside the head.</p><p>"Let's get you home," he tells Zabini, wiping his face with the towel before throwing it in a bin labelled 'Dirty Towels'.</p><p>"I could probably still score," Zabini insists, looking annoyed. I wince – he's literally got the little umbrella from Ava's drink, clinging for dear life on his collar.</p><p>"Quit while you're ahead, mate," Malfoy tells him, grabbing our arms and dragging us both to the stairwell. The door barely closes behind us when I hear the loud CRACK, and suddenly, I am Side-Along Apparating with Malfoy and Zabini.</p><p>I really hope I don't get Splinched.</p><p>A/N: Some new developments, a little flirting! ;) Hope you liked this one. Let me know what you think!</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter Seven: 12:13 A.M.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Seven: 12:13 A.M.</p><p>If you had told me this morning that I will find myself in Malfoy and Zabini’s flat at quarter past midnight, I would have told you that you were mad. </p><p>I’m still holding the towel from the hotel – shit, I stole a towel – and I’m using it to dry myself and my hair while Malfoy flicks on the lights and pushes Zabini into what I am assuming is his bedroom.</p><p>As they argue, I look around their living room and kitchen area. It’s reasonably modern, unlike my flat in Diagon Alley, and I see a couple of Muggle appliances that look unused. There’s a large pile of dishes in the sink in soapy water with a scrubber that is magically scrubbing them, even though they look clean.</p><p>I toss the towel onto a chair and take a deep breath, alone for the first time all night. My ears are ringing from the music at the party, but I don’t mind it. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so much. Maybe Malfoy was right; maybe I need a little more spontaneity in my life, a little more risk-taking. </p><p>I can do that, right? I’m a Gryffindor, after all.</p><p>A quick drying spell later, I’m feeling warm and not dripping pool water on the floor. As Malfoy emerges from Zabini’s bedroom, he sees my wand pointed directly at him. He holds his hands up.</p><p>“Are you going to attack me?” he asks, grinning at me.</p><p>“Considering it,” I say cheekily, and with a flick of my wand, Malfoy’s clothes are dry again and no longer transparent. Ah, you win some, you lose some.</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>“So, tell me something,” I begin, tucking away my wand. “I didn’t realize being Zabini’s wingman actually meant being his babysitter.”</p><p>Malfoy bursts out a quick laugh, like I surprised him. “Yeah. He’s got his issues.”</p><p>“You don’t mind?”</p><p>“No,” he says, leaning his forearm on the counter and slouching over. “We’ve known each other since before we could talk.”</p><p>“Huh.” I wrap my arms around myself, looking around again. “Your place is nice. I like it.”</p><p>“Best place in London?” he jokes.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“That’s only because you haven’t seen my bedroom,” he says, and I laugh.</p><p>“Not happening, Malfoy,” I say, but I’m not going to lie, the thought excites me a little. I can tell I’m blushing, because he’s giving me this look that’s halfway between a smirk and pure amusement.</p><p>“We’ll see.” His – grey? Maybe blue? – eyes are fixed on mine.</p><p>I look away at a clock on the wall, arms tightening around the twist in my belly. “So, it’s a quarter past midnight.”</p><p>“The night is still young,” Malfoy says, starting to lead us out his front door. “Ready to go, then?”</p><p>“Not sure,” I tease as he closes the door behind us. “You’ve built it up too much.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“It’s like meeting your favourite celebrity,” I explain as we make our way down the steps of the building. “You start to expect more because you’ve built it up in your head. When you meet them, you’ll only be disappointed.”</p><p>“Or, it could be the best experience of your life,” he suggests.</p><p>“Who knows? Maybe you’ve shot yourself in the foot.”</p><p>“Hmm.” He thinks for a moment as we get outside - we’re not too far from Diagon Alley, I realize. “Well, in that case, how about we go to your favourite place in London?”</p><p>I pause, hesitating. “Why there instead of the best place?”</p><p>“We haven’t built it up, so chances are, I’ll only be slightly disappointed,” Malfoy says. I roll my eyes.</p><p>“What if I don’t want to show you?” I say.</p><p>He stops in the middle of the sidewalk and turns to me, practically pouting. “Why wouldn’t you?”</p><p>“There’s a chance it won’t be good enough for Scorpius Malfoy’s standards.”</p><p>“You wound me,” he says, dramatically clutching his chest at his heart. “I have no standards.”</p><p>“You want to show me the best place in London.”</p><p>“Yes, as a thank-you for ditching your date with me!” he says in a matter-of-fact tone. “We even ditched them two more times.”</p><p>“Don’t remind me,” I moan as he slings an arm around my shoulder and we keep walking. This whole night has been a lesson in being straightforward and facing confrontations. According to myself, anyway – Malfoy is probably still in denial.</p><p>“Come on, Rose,” he says, and his smile is almost sincere. “Please?”</p><p>I laugh, but I’m realizing that this is the first time he’s called me Rose. The knot in my belly twists just a little more. </p><p>There a few things I know for sure:</p><p>One: it feels risky to show Malfoy my favourite place. I didn’t know him that well in the beginning of the night, but now I kind of do. But it still feels risky, like if things go sour, I won’t be able to go anymore.</p><p>Two: I want to take more risks.</p><p>Three: I want to snog the pants off of him.</p><p>“I’m thinking about it,” I decide. I might be an idiot or insane. I’m thinking both. “But you’re not allowed to make fun of it.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t,” he says, his arm still around me as we start walking again, “too much.”</p><p>I smack him gently at his middle, but he doesn’t let go. Which I’m happy about, because as I’ve mentioned, he is quite warm and it’s slightly chilly now that it’s late.</p><p>Don’t look at me like that.</p><p>We keep walking along. I’m still thinking of ways I could get out of this situation when Malfoy nudges me. “Rose.”</p><p>“Mhmm?”</p><p>“What’s something you’ve never done?”</p><p>“Oh,” I say in surprise, looking at him. He’s staring back intently, his eyes dark in the dim street lamps. I narrow my eyes. “How drunk are you?”</p><p>“A bit?” he says, and I give him a look. “Okay, fine, a fair amount.”</p><p>“You said girls call you emotionally unavailable,” I tease.</p><p>“Turns out, I just needed a special someone to get me drunk enough,” he says, and I laugh. I can feel my cheeks heating up again. “Or maybe you drugged me with tacos.”</p><p>“They are addicting,” I tell him seriously.</p><p>“Come on,” he says, nudging me again. “Tell me.”</p><p>“Something I’ve never done...”</p><p>“That you’ve always wanted to do.” He sighs. “Merlin, you’re right. Something about you makes me introspective.”</p><p>“The horror.”</p><p>“Thanks, I hate it.”</p><p>I chuckle, and before I can stop the words, I say, “Well, I’ve always wanted to write a novel.”</p><p>He raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t know you write.”</p><p>Oh no. Anything but this topic. Why did I bring this up?</p><p>Sober Rose, wherever you are, STOP. TOP SECRET. ABORT MISSION. </p><p>“Does it count as writing if it’s only in my head?” I say feebly.</p><p>“Sure,” he says, using a sharp tilt of his head that clearly said, ‘Why not?’ </p><p>PAGING SOBER ROSE, PLEASE RESCUE THIS CONVERSATION.</p><p>“What if it’s been four years?” I say. I can feel the rambling coming. I purse my lips together, as if the physical act will stop the words from spilling out. “I started working at The Daily Prophet, and then it was like a well dried up. Like I haven’t written a single word down on parchment for four years. Not even, ‘Once upon a time.’ Nothing. I lost my quill.”</p><p>Sober Rose is going to despise me.</p><p>I might be imagining it, but I feel Malfoy’s grip tighten around my shoulders. Like he’s holding me closer. “That’s okay. ‘Once upon a time’ is a horrible way to start a story.”</p><p>I laugh, despite myself.</p><p>“It’s all good,” he says gently. “What’s your rush?”</p><p>“I dunno, I dunno.” I look down at the pavement, as if that would stop the blood rushing to my face. “Maybe I’m just worried I’ll never write again.”</p><p>His voice floats above my ears. “Maybe. But it seems that it means a lot to you. More than anything else you’ve talked about.”</p><p>I look at him then, and even though he’s looking up ahead, probably making sure we don’t crash into anything, something about him makes my chest have little twinges here and there. </p><p>I’m quite certain I’m falling for him, and it’s only been four hours.</p><p>Great. Just great.</p><p>He shrugs and sends me a smile. “I’m sure you’ll be writing again when you’re ready.”</p><p>I lean my head against his side. “I think you’re secretly nice.”</p><p>“‘Secretly’?” he repeats, looking affronted. “I am nice.”</p><p>“Debatable.”</p><p>“What have I ever done to anyone?”</p><p>“You ditched your date,” I tease. “You pushed an innocent girl in the pool.”</p><p>“You pushed me first!” </p><p>“You fell in. Awfully clumsy of you.”</p><p>Malfoy shakes his head, but I feel the laughter rumbling in his chest.</p><p>I find he is a very comfortable pillow, by the way. Doesn’t even smell too much like chlorine.</p><p>“So what have you always wanted to do?” I ask. </p><p>He thinks for a moment. “Travel. Also, I still haven’t been to a World Cup, I’ll finally be able to go next year.”</p><p>“You missed the last one?” I say, feeling sympathetic. The last one was three years ago – they’re on every four years – and it was incredible. My family is full of raving Quidditch fanatics. “That’s a shame.”</p><p>“Couldn’t afford tickets.”</p><p>“I sometimes get tickets to games through work,” I say, “but the World Cup tickets were tougher to get. My parents had to pull some strings.” I almost open my mouth to invite him – and then shut it immediately, remembering that I have no business inviting him anywhere.</p><p>“I’m determined for next year,” he says, sounding confident. “The Daily Prophet gives free tickets?”</p><p>“They make up for the incredibly dull work and meagre pay,” I reply. I’ve made it through various entry roles and finally landed as an editor, and then I realized it was going to be years before I wasn’t doing menial tasks. Brilliant, that.</p><p>“Maybe I’ll apply,” Malfoy jokes. “I work in Archives in the Ministry’s records room. We never get free tickets.”</p><p>I don’t say it, but I’m surprised. I remember his grades were right behind mine in half our classes, and he definitely surpassed my Potions mark. He’s way too smart to be working in archives.</p><p>“So, where are we headed?” he asks. “Are we going to your place?”</p><p>“I dunno, I’m not convinced yet.”</p><p>“Oh, come on, Rose,” he says again, causing my heart to stutter a little. “What do I need to do? Beg?”</p><p>“That sounds pretty good, actually,” I say, laughing.</p><p>He pauses. “Actually, what else do I need to do?”</p><p>“Backing out already?”</p><p>“Begging is not one of my strengths,” he confesses, sighing dramatically. “How about another drink? More tacos?”</p><p>“I’m good, thanks,” I say, chuckling. “Malfoy, this is my favourite place in the entire world. You’re going to have to do better than that.”</p><p>You can’t ruin it for me.</p><p>Because I can feel the end of the night coming – for me, anyway – and I don’t know how I would go back from this. He obviously wants to kiss me, wants something, but even if we don’t end up doing anything, I don’t know if I could go back to friendship from that. And he doesn’t do relationships. </p><p>So isn’t all this just for one night?</p><p>He lets out a long breath, clearly sensing my hesitance. He stops us in the middle of the sidewalk, stepping in front of me and putting his hands on my shoulders. </p><p>“Rose,” he says, “I promise I will not make fun of this place. I will refrain from any strange facial expressions or snide comments.” He leans forward, looking at me closely. “No matter how desperately I want to.”</p><p>I can’t help the laughter that bubbles up. </p><p>I really like him.</p><p>He’s just so… free.</p><p>“You know what?” I say, “Okay. We’re going.” I feel like my voice has taken charge from my brain, and it is much more confident than I feel. “I want that drink, too, once we get there.”</p><p>Be spontaneous. Take risks.</p><p>He straightens up, grinning. “Brilliant.”</p><p> </p><p>A/N: Hey there! Hope you liked this chapter. Anyone have any ideas what the best place is for Rose or Scorpius? :)</p><p>Also, let me know how you all are doing - I swear the stress of everything is intensifying this week. Hope everyone is keeping safe.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter Eight: 12:49 A.M.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Eight: 12:49 A.M.</p><p>I'm anxious as I lead him through the streets. It's not long before we're reaching the little hidden alley where I've ventured so many times. On some of my lonelier days, just approaching the alley relieves the knot in my stomach.</p><p>Today isn't really one of those days.</p><p>I'm pulling him by the hand because he seems a little reluctant.</p><p>"Rose? This looks like where we go to die," Malfoy points out as we slip into the dark alley. "Where are we?"</p><p>"It's okay," I assure him, practically dragging him along. "I've been here literally every weekend for the past three years."</p><p>Malfoy slips his hand out of mine as we approach a set of steps that lead to a basement entrance into the building. I descend down the stairs, but he's still hesitant. Probably because there's a yellowing sign on the door that says, 'KEEP OUT.'</p><p>Okay, I can admit it looks a little creepy from the outside.</p><p>"Are you sure you want to go in there?" he asks again.</p><p>"Oh, don't be worried," I say, grabbing the grey handle of the door and easily pushing it open. "The sign is for Muggles."</p><p>"Seems like it's for us, too." I ignore him and go inside, holding the door for him. He scrambles in a few seconds later, expression clearing as he sees the entrance.</p><p>Muggles wouldn't see it, but we've entered the lobby of a little bookstore. It feels a little old-fashioned, with wooden shelves lining the walls and ending at the admittedly low ceilings and rosewood tables along the middle. Oil lamps and candles sit on each table, glowing dimly. In one corner, there is a boy with a guitar, playing and singing a song.</p><p>Several people are all around, looking at books, sitting and reading, chatting and ordering drinks and food. Various hot chocolate and Butterbeer mugs are floating in from the kitchen and bar, dropping in front of its intended.</p><p>Malfoy is looking above the inner entrance. There is a giant, scripted sign above that says, 'The Owlery.'</p><p>"It's called the Owlery because it's a late-night bookstore," I explain, still unable to read his expression. "People come here if they're not really into the whole bar scene, read, listen to music, meet like-minded people…" I trail off.</p><p>Malfoy doesn't say anything, just keeps looking around.</p><p>I go ahead inside, trying to ignore the hammering in my chest. The tables around the singing guitarist are all full, so I choose one away from the noise and sit down. Malfoy sits with me, still quiet as I pick up the menu sitting on the table.</p><p>"Up for a Butterbeer?" I ask, biting my lip. Why isn't he saying anything? Does he hate it?</p><p>"Sure," he says, still looking around at everything. "It looks like… a cave."</p><p>"Err…" I don't know what to say. "I guess?"</p><p>I go to order Butterbeers at the bar and go back to sit with him. He's still quiet when the Butterbeer mugs float in front of us and land on the table with a thunk.</p><p>"So this is where I like to come," I say nervously, twisting and fidgeting with my fingers. "My favourite place in London."</p><p>Come on, Malfoy, say something. Put me out of my misery.</p><p>"Hmm." He finally looks at me, smiling. "You said you come here every weekend?"</p><p>I take a large gulp of Butterbeer before answering. It warms my insides a little. "Yeah."</p><p>"It's… kind of amazing," he admits, and the relief runs through me in a long breath out. "How did you find out about this?"</p><p>"The Prophet. Lots of readers there."</p><p>"Right, right," he says, taking a long sip of his drink. "I'm actually incredibly jealous I didn't find out about this place first."</p><p>I laugh in surprise. "Wait, really?"</p><p>"Of course," he says matter-of-factly.</p><p>"Well." I feel kind of flattered.</p><p>"Can we look around?" he asks, so we grab our mugs and explore.</p><p>Malfoy makes a beeline to the history section almost immediately, and I listen as he explains some of the rare titles he finds. Even though it's redundant, I swear we spend twenty minutes just talking about Hogwarts: A History. I've never met anyone else (besides my mum) who actually read it.</p><p>Hypothesis: Malfoy is actually a secret nerd.</p><p>(Not sure about the secret part – he is a Ravenclaw, after all.)</p><p>We keep looking over titles. He deeply understated how much of a reader he actually is, but it seems that's just how he operates with explaining these different things about himself. He's read more of the bestseller list than I have, and I spend every single Friday proofreading the damn list for the weekend edition of the paper.</p><p>Eventually, I pull him away from a limited edition copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. "Listen. I want to show you upstairs."</p><p>He looks around again, furrowing his brow. "There's an upstairs?"</p><p>I lead him to a little entrance to a spiral staircase. The entrance is blocked from view by a rather large bookcase, so I don't blame him for overlooking it. We trudge upstairs, still holding our half-full Butterbeers.</p><p>"This is the used section," I explain to him as we go up, "People donate books here. "Also, it's a quiet reading section, and the mirrors shush you if you talk too loud. Just so you know."</p><p>The top floor is filled with rows of bookcases but instead of tables, there are cushions everywhere: by the large window in the back, along the walls and tucked inside the bookcases. Decorative mirrors are placed somewhat randomly on the walls. It's very quiet and empty, as it usually is when there's a concert downstairs.</p><p>We spend a few minutes walking around, sipping our Butterbeers in silence and looking at books. We reach the opposite end of the rows, to the window, which provides a lovely street view. We walk around the back when Malfoy stops at a large world map that is hung up on the wall, just staring at it. It's a few moments before I remember that he wants to travel.</p><p>"Where do you want to go?" I whisper.</p><p>"I dunno." Golden pushpins have been nailed into the capital cities of each country. I watch in the dim light as he traces the pin at London and goes to Madrid, then Paris. Then he traces to Rome. "Where have you gone?"</p><p>I reach up on my toes and trace from London to Paris. "Went to visit my cousin's family there." Then I trace to Greece, landing on Athens. "Went on a family trip." I trace over to Rome and Venice. "Albus and I did a trip there." Then I take a large leap to New York City, in America. "Another family trip."</p><p>"Amazing."</p><p>"You'll go one day," I assure him.</p><p>"What's your family like?" he asks, turning to me.</p><p>I shrug, letting go of the map. "I know everyone says lots of things, but they're just like any other family to me. Slightly too large, can get a little rowdy, sometimes embarrassing."</p><p>He grins. "Sounds about right."</p><p>"I love them to death."</p><p>"I can tell." He turns back to the map. "We never did things like family trips. My parents should have divorced a long time ago, if that was in their vocabulary."</p><p>I wrap an arm around his waist and pull him closer, and I think I surprise him. His arm snakes over my shoulders. "You think you would do a trip without them, then?"</p><p>Malfoy snorts. "Of course. I have spent the better part of my life rejecting all their bullshit."</p><p>"I'll take that as a yes, then." I lean into him, finishing my Butterbeer. It makes sense to me that he would do that – he's very different than the boy my father warned me about all those years ago.</p><p>A few moments go by before he says, "Thanks for bringing me here."</p><p>"You're welcome," I say, releasing him from our half-hug.</p><p>"Why did you think I wouldn't like it?"</p><p>"I dunno." I consider this. It was less the fact that he wouldn't like it – I just let him think that. "I would never take a date here, usually."</p><p>"Why's that?" he asks, "Usually?"</p><p>"I love it here that much," I admit, "and I told you, my dating experience since Hogwarts has been complete and utter shit." I trace the handle on my mug, avoiding his eyes. "I wouldn't want any negative memories in my happy place that would ruin it."</p><p>"Your happy place," he repeats with a grin.</p><p>"Don't laugh," I warn.</p><p>"I would never," he says, but I can see him smiling into his mug as he takes a sip. "You know, Rose, this isn't even a date, yet."</p><p>"Yet?" I ask, feeling my cheeks burning.</p><p>He doesn't attempt to hide his grin this time. "I haven't kissed you yet."</p><p>"Oh." For some reason, this annoys me. Probably because he's trying to annoy me.</p><p>And because I have no class whatsoever, I elbow him in the gut.</p><p>To be clear, it does not hurt and it just causes him to double over laughing. And somehow, I'm laughing too. The mirrors go, 'SHH!" around us, but we can't help ourselves.</p><p>I know I've said this before, but genuinely, Malfoy's smile is amazing.</p><p>When we finally stop laughing, I gently press my knuckles to my face. "My cheeks hurt from laughing. I can't even remember the last time that happened."</p><p>"Mine, too," he says, still chuckling a little. "This has actually been one of the nicest nights I've had in a while."</p><p>"Really?"</p><p>"Yeah." He drains the last of his drink. "Also, this is the best Butterbeer I've had."</p><p>"I think they add cinnamon," I say absent-mindedly, watching as his tongue darts up to lick the last bits of foamy Butterbeer from his lips.</p><p>He doesn't even know how sexy he is.</p><p>"Ah." He leans back on a bookcase, putting his mug down on the shelf. "Good to know."</p><p>I feel a little jolt in my stomach when he tugs my hand, pulling me closer to him. He lets go and goes to my shoulder, into the ends of my maroon hair, smoothing them out. "You know, your hair actually looks nice like this." A smirk is playing on his lips.</p><p>Scratch that, maybe he knows exactly how sexy he is.</p><p>I laugh nervously. "My hair has a mind of its own, and I'm sure she would appreciate that."</p><p>"I'm sure," he replies, amused. He tucks my hair behind my ear and all of a sudden, he's much closer. "You're lovely."</p><p>"Thanks," I say quietly, feeling my fingers tighten around my mug of their own accord.</p><p>"And," he says, sliding a hand to my waist, "so nervous. Why?"</p><p>"I'm not nervous," I say, trying to sound indignant but just falling short. I'm more trying to ignore the fact that my heart is so loud I can barely hear myself, my face burning hot like I have a fever and I actually like his hand on my waist (and not on my butt, like with Norman).</p><p>"I'm not kissing you until you tell me," he teases.</p><p>He is such a git.</p><p>"I don't want to kiss you anyway," I retort, not really meaning it. I am blushing furiously, and Malfoy is far too pleased with himself.</p><p>How is it that I simultaneously want to kick him and snog him against the wall?</p><p>"Maybe I'm not nervous," I add, literally pulling whatever I'm saying out of my arse. "Maybe you're nervous."</p><p>"Me?" he says, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>"Maybe you're worried I don't want to kiss you," I tease. Something crosses his face, and in the next moment, he's taking my mug out of my hand and setting it on the shelf, then pushing me back against the bookcase.</p><p>I lose my breath entirely.</p><p>"Maybe not," I say meekly.</p><p>He laughs, all breathily like he's lost his breath, too. "Maybe not." He drops his forehead to mine, hands on my waist, tugging me closer until we collide. "You really are cute when you're nervous."</p><p>"I resent that."</p><p>I wonder if he can literally feel my heart thumping against his chest. I am trying to resist every single urge I have to run away to a far safer distance, which proving to be quite difficult.</p><p>Take risks, Rose.</p><p>He chuckles softly, leans down, and then his lips are on mine.</p><p>He's very gentle, which surprises me. It's almost like he's asking if this is okay, like he can sense the confusion on the inside, and is wondering if it's okay to keep going. And it is. My fingers feel like they're on fire, tingling as I grip his sleeves tightly, but I like it. More than I thought I would.</p><p>Maybe that's why I was nervous.</p><p>His hands are tight on my waist, leaning in more, bringing my back further into the shelves. He coaxes my mouth open and it all feels so slow and natural, but overwhelming at this same time. He's so warm and so close and I feel his stubble on my lips, rough, but in a good way. My head feels light, like I might be dreaming.</p><p>Eventually the digging into my back causes me to break off, a little abruptly.</p><p>Malfoy searches my face, obviously wondering what happened. "Sorry."</p><p>"No," I say immediately, "it was just the shelves."</p><p>"Oh." We're still holding each other. He's not smiling or laughing like he has been all night, and it's caught me off guard. He's staring at my lips again.</p><p>I can't believe I just snogged someone in the Owlery. A person I barely know. I can't believe I spent all night with him, even though he doesn't believe in dating or relationships. I can't believe I just did that.</p><p>I can't believe I liked it.</p><p>I can't believe I want to do it again.</p><p>"So," he says nonchalantly, sliding his hands off my waist, "this is what you mean by swearing off men."</p><p>I let go of him, trying not to laugh. "Shut up."</p><p>"I'm getting mixed signals, here," he teases, breaking into a smile.</p><p>I shake my head in disbelief. He is the king of mixed signals. He seems so unconcerned, whereas I can't stop thinking it:</p><p>What now?</p><p>I have no idea what he wants with me – Rose Weasley, avid romantic – who is definitely going to have her heart broken by all of this. All of a sudden, I feel swallowed up by everything that just happened, like the gears in my mind are turning in molasses.</p><p>My brain clearly isn't working properly after that kiss.</p><p>I need to get out of here before I say something stupid.</p><p>A/N: Ahhhh I'm so nervous for this chapter. Let me know what you think :)</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter Nine: 1:32 A.M.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Nine: 1:32 A.M.</p><p>I grab our empty mugs from the bookshelf and start heading downstairs. Malfoy follows me, still teasing me about something or other, but I'm not listening to him. I drop off our empty mugs at the bar, handing over a few sickles for the drinks and head to the door. Malfoy follows me until we reach the lobby, where he grabs my wrist.</p><p>"Wait," he says, pulling me back. "I can't top this."</p><p>"What?" I ask, confused. My cheeks are still burning.</p><p>"This is the best place in London," he confesses, looking back at the bookstore. "I can't top this at all." Oddly, this makes me feel like I've won something.</p><p>"Oh," I say hurriedly, shrugging, "that's okay." I turn to open to door, intent on getting far away from him, even though I don't really have a plan for that.</p><p>He pulls me back again, hand still on my wrist. "Where are we going?"</p><p>"I... dunno," I stammer. We? "Home, maybe? I'm not sure."</p><p>All I keep thinking is that I like this too much, and this is getting too risky, even for a newly converted risk-taker like me. Maybe my best bet is to go home, bury myself under my bed covers and forget this ever happened.</p><p>But what if I can't forget?</p><p>He seems to somehow be completely oblivious to the internal war I have raging in my head. "Well, I want to take you somewhere. I feel like I owe you it to you after going on about it all night."</p><p>"You don't owe me anything," I reply, my heart thudding in anticipation again as he looks at me. "It's okay."</p><p>He stares at me, obviously very confused as to why I'm acting like a crazy person. "Then where do you want to go? You can't want to go home yet, right?"</p><p>I take a few deep breaths. What is wrong with me?</p><p>I want to ask him. I want to say it like in the movies – What do you want from me, anyway? – and get the answer, right here, right now. The suspense is killing me and I have no idea what he's thinking. He's hard to read even though he seems like an open book. But I've never been that gutsy, and the words are lost on my tongue.</p><p>But Malfoy is clearly not going anywhere. Maybe he feels all of this – whatever it is – the way I do.</p><p>I need to calm down if I want to find out.</p><p>"Well, where even is this place you've been going on about all night?" I ask, fidgeting with my hands, trying to relax.</p><p>"It was just this rooftop I like to go on," he says. "Great view, great place to snog, but it isn't all that special."</p><p>I shake my head. All this buildup for a rooftop? "That's your happy place?"</p><p>"What? No," he says, laughing. "I don't have a happy place."</p><p>"Everyone has a happy place."</p><p>"I don't," he says, sounding unsure.</p><p>"Everyone has a happy place," I repeat, insistent. "Where do you go when you just need to be alone, when you're sad? What's the first place you go to when you need a second to process something amazing?"</p><p>"I..." He trails off.</p><p>For the first time, I think I've actually rendered Malfoy speechless.</p><p>I am actually quite proud of this accomplishment.</p><p>He lets out a breath, looking at the ceiling. "You really want to see it?"</p><p>I perk up. "Yes."</p><p>"Even if it's stupid."</p><p>"I showed you mine," I say, gesturing around.</p><p>"Okay," he says, reaching out and taking my hand, "but you're going to have to believe me when I say it's not my bedroom."</p><p>"What?" Before I can say another word, we Disapparate.</p><p>Into Malfoy's bedroom.</p><p>Hmm...</p><p>Before I can call him out, he goes straight to his window, unlocking it and pushing it upwards. He sits on the ledge, swings his legs out and ducks underneath, getting out. To his fire escape.</p><p>Oh.</p><p>He looks at me from outside. "Well, what are you waiting for?"</p><p>I drop my purse in a corner of his room and crawl through the window, being careful not to flash anyone because of my dress. I sit beside Malfoy on the admittedly small fire escape, feeling the slightly cold black grill against my bum. Our knees press together.</p><p>"Well," he says, not looking at me, "this is it. I guess you could call it my happy place."</p><p>"It's cozy."</p><p>"Sure." He's still not looking at me, instead looking out to the alley below, where he has a great view of a dumpster and parked cars. He's uncharacteristically quiet. And then it hits me.</p><p>He's nervous.</p><p>Of course he is. This is the most personal he's gotten all night.</p><p>I lean my head on his shoulder. "I like it."</p><p>He lets out a chuckle. "You wanted to see it, for some reason."</p><p>"I know."</p><p>"It's no Owlery."</p><p>"I'm happy to share that place with you," I say without thinking.</p><p>He puts an arm around me then, and things feel calm again. Somehow. Or maybe I just feel like I'm on an even playing field, like I'm not the only one who's feeling this sense of exposure. Like it's not difficult for just me.</p><p>Like I'm not the only one who's feeling like this.</p><p>"So," I say, trying to lighten the mood, "you take all your girls to that rooftop."</p><p>His lips twitch. "Jealous?"</p><p>"Never," I shoot back.</p><p>He laughs. "'All my girls.' You mean that maybe once in a year thing that happens?"</p><p>"Only for three hours," I add playfully, remembering Davies' remark from earlier.</p><p>He checks his watch. "We've hit the five-hour mark."</p><p>"So it seems, Malfoy."</p><p>"You can call me Scorpius, you know," he tells me, "since it's been five hours, after all."</p><p>I'm blushing again, so I snuggle into his shoulder so he can't see.</p><p>I'm not sure when I fall asleep or for how long, but the next thing I know, I'm waking up against Malfoy – Scorpius. I hear the tail end of an ambulance siren, which must have woken me up. It's still dark out, but it's much quieter outside. He's still asleep when I wake, but his eyes blink open when I shift.</p><p>"What happened?" he asks sleepily as I untangle our limbs.</p><p>"We fell asleep," I whisper back, sitting up straight and rubbing my eyes.</p><p>"You're so cold…" I feel his arm, still around me, brushing my arm where my short sleeve ends. "You should have told me. I would've given you a blanket."</p><p>"It's okay." Truth is, he's so warm that the cold didn't bother me at all.</p><p>"Let's go inside," he suggests, so I climb back into his bedroom through the window. As Malfoy – Scorpius is coming back in, I look around in the dim light. He doesn't have much: a large bed, a nightstand and a dresser. But he also has a giant bookshelf overflowing with books, which makes me happy to see.</p><p>That's the strangest thing about tonight: I feel like I know Scorpius Malfoy. Not entirely, but fairly well.</p><p>He's rubbing his hands over his face when I turn back to him. "What time is it?"</p><p>I check my watch in the light from the window. "4:32 A.M."</p><p>Eight hours.</p><p>Scorpius is just a silhouette as he comes closer. "I think you're sober."</p><p>"What makes you say that?" I ask, but it's true. I'm exhausted, but I feel a little more like myself.</p><p>"I'm sober," he says, running a hand through his hair, making it stick up. I can feel his gaze on me, intense. "Mostly, anyway. That was…"</p><p>"Fun," I whisper, feeling unsure of my own voice. I'm not lying. But it was more than that. It was… magic, really.</p><p>"It was fun," he confirms. He's close, but not as close as he could be. I don't know where to stand, literally or figuratively. "Thanks for helping me escape my date, by the way."</p><p>I laugh softly. "Oh yeah. Where do you think they got off to?"</p><p>"Not sure," he says, shrugging. "Looks like we lost them."</p><p>It feels very quiet in the room.</p><p>"You're up way past your bedtime," he says teasingly, sitting at the edge of his bed and flicking on his bedside lamp.</p><p>"Oh, shut up," I say, grinning.</p><p>"You're welcome to stay here," he says. My eyebrows go up, but he adds, "On the couch, or you can take my bed and I'll take the couch… I dunno," he finishes, flustered.</p><p>I try to read his expression, but I'm failing so miserably. I can't tell if he wants me to leave, forget any of this ever happened and lean into this whole cat lady thing. I'm not sure if he's just being nice, offering his couch so I don't have to Apparate when exhausted. Maybe he's just being nice.</p><p>But then there's something there. And maybe he was just drunk, but he danced with me. He told me about his family. He showed me his happy place. He kissed me. And now, he's giving me some kind of look, and I can feel the heat from across the room.</p><p>I should tell him. I should tell him the truth and just get it over with.</p><p>But it might break the spell, this whole magical night we've had, and I'm not ready for that yet.</p><p>And because I don't want to leave, but I also don't want to completely embarrass myself by jumping his bones, I invade his privacy and walk over to his bookshelf instead.</p><p>So much better, I know.</p><p>He doesn't protest, just watches me from his bed as I touch the spine of the books on his middle shelf. "You have so many of the books in the Hogwarts library." I notice the spines on each are fairly worn out, too. "You like to re-read?"</p><p>"Yeah," he says, not sounding self-conscious at all. "I liked a lot of our textbooks and assigned reading. Professor Binns is such a bore, though. I skipped half his classes, and he never noticed."</p><p>"That's what happens when you have a ghost for your favourite subject."</p><p>"Exactly."</p><p>I keep looking through his titles, and I'm surprised to find that he also has a few titles that I've read, but only because my mum told me about them. I see 1984, The Great Gatsby and The Diary of Anne Frank, and I can't hide my surprise.</p><p>"You have Muggle books."</p><p>He comes over then to check what I'm looking at, and then laughs. "Oh yeah. I went through this phase when I was younger and I bought a ton of Muggle stuff to annoy my family."</p><p>"Really?"</p><p>"Yeah," he says, thinking back and smiling. "Books, pens, CDs… it annoyed my grandparents more than my parents, but all in all, it worked."</p><p>I laugh, but I'm somewhat perplexed.</p><p>"I ended up getting rid of most of it when I moved," he adds, "but I kept the books. They were really good."</p><p>"I only read them because of my mum," I admit, "but I love them."</p><p>A silence falls between us again.</p><p>I know, I know, I'm stalling. I should say something.</p><p>But he's not exactly kicking me out, is he?</p><p>I turn to his bookshelf again, feeling a little more nervous now that he's standing right behind me. "I think you might like this Muggle book, it's about spies in World War II. They're women spies, which is a little different, and it's based on real things they did during that time. Muggles figure out how to do things in strange and creative ways."</p><p>I can hear Scorpius' smile in his words. "You're rambling, Rose."</p><p>"I'm not rambling," I say, turning to face him, feeling myself go red. He's closer than I thought he was. "It's actually a really good book. I think you would like it. Because you like history and historical fiction, right?"</p><p>"Right," he confirms.</p><p>"Right," I repeat, slightly out of breath. "I'm not rambling."</p><p>"No, you are," he says, matter-of-factly. A beat of silence passes between us again.</p><p>And suddenly, he's leaning down and kissing me, and I'm finding myself pressed into a bookshelf for the second time that night.</p><p>And this time, neither of us are holding back.</p><p>I feel my heart stutter as he groans into my lips, his hands holding my jaw, then in my hair, then on my waist – I can't keep track. He's everywhere. I am clinging on to him, onto his collar, around his shoulders, through his hair, trying to make sense of it all, but everything feels like heat. Alive.</p><p>It's nothing I've ever felt before, with anyone.</p><p>At some point, I feel us moving off the shelf until he hits the bed. I feel his hands at my legs and he lifts me off the ground, and somehow, he's sitting down and my knees are on either side of his legs, my dress riding up. Then his hands are slowly trailing up my thighs, beginning to explore the softer parts, and I feel like I'm falling into him. Crashing into him.</p><p>I break off, breathing hard, my forehead dropping onto his. It's intense, so intense, and I don't know why. His breath is as ragged as mine, and he keeps his eyes closed.</p><p>"Fuck," he mumbles, sounding unhinged. "Fuck, I want you."</p><p>Then he's kissing me again before I can respond, my eyes are falling closed, and it would be so easy – if it were anyone else – to lose myself in this. Lose myself in him.</p><p>But I'm not anyone else, and my heart pounds in my ears. It feels too fast and too slow at the same time. Everything about his touch is overwhelming; too soft, too gentle, but also too rough, too unpredictable.</p><p>And maybe Drunk Rose was way better – okay, slightly better – with all of this. I somehow convinced myself that I was okay with it if we woke up tomorrow and never saw each other again. Or something like that.</p><p>But now? I'm very sober, very aware, and I'm very anxious.</p><p>I just don't know how to come back from this. How I would be okay with this.</p><p>All of my willpower goes into pulling away again, and it takes a second before Scorpius opens his eyes. His hair looks wild – I might have been tugging it a little too much – and it takes him a moment to realize something's up.</p><p>"You okay?" he whispers, chest still heaving.</p><p>"Yeah." No. "It's just…"</p><p>He waits, but when I don't say anything, he slides his hands from my thighs to my waist. "What is it?"</p><p>"Okay, I'm just going to throw this out there," I say in a nervous jumble. "Disclaimer, I'm not good at saying these things."</p><p>He just stares at me.</p><p>I'm off to a great start, aren't I?</p><p>"I just… don't know what this is," I say. "I don't know what you want from me." I'm internally cringing because I sound like every fucking cliché ever. But I also don't care, because what else can I say?</p><p>"Ah." He squeezes his eyes shut tightly. "Rose. Do we have to complicate this? I mean, we're having fun, aren't we?"</p><p>Everything in my chest feels like it's sinking.</p><p>Fuck, fuck, fuck.</p><p>"I know," I say, my voice small. "We are. I am." He doesn't say anything. Just looks at me, still holding me.</p><p>So I keep going. "This was the best night I've had in so long, you know? And I do want this. So much."</p><p>"Yeah," he agrees softly, finally.</p><p>"I just, I don't want it to be the last time," I say, practically tripping on the words. "That's all."</p><p>"I don't want that either," he says, and then he pauses. Like he hadn't meant to say it.</p><p>Or maybe… he's just never said it before.</p><p>He's gone quiet again, and I feel like I'm ticking the seconds on my fingers. He's staring past my arm, his hands still around my waist, digging into the fabric. I don't want to pressure him, and I'm not asking him for everything. I wouldn't.</p><p>But just the possibility.</p><p>I'm now avoiding his eyes as I speak. "If we wake up tomorrow," I say, fidgeting with his collar, "and we never see each other again, I just feel like... I'd be missing something."</p><p>He lets out a long breath before speaking. "Honestly, I've never done this. I've been on dates but they never were very long, or very real. I'm usually up front with girls, and no one's ever questioned it."</p><p>"To be fair, you were up front with me," I say, trying to lighten the mood. "Maybe I just got confused."</p><p>"Maybe I wasn't very up front at all," he mumbles. I feel my heart drop even lower.</p><p>"So you don't want to see me again," I say, trying to keep my voice even.</p><p>"No, I do want to see you again," he admits, like the words are difficult to say. "I don't want you to leave at all. Is that strange?"</p><p>"I hope not," I joke uncertainly.</p><p>He stays quiet for a long moment before saying, "I actually really like you, Rose."</p><p>I soften.</p><p>"What's it like?" he asks, searching my face. "What do you do in a relationship?"</p><p>It was as though he was asking me right back: What do you want?</p><p>"I dunno," I say, my voice breaking. I clear my throat. "You go out on dates. You fall for each other. You fight and you make up. You enjoy each other's company until one day you don't. And maybe that day never comes."</p><p>I can feel his gaze piercing me, and it's too intense to look at straight on.</p><p>"But how do you know?" he asks quietly, anxiously.</p><p>"You don't," I find myself saying. "You just have to want it enough."</p><p>He doesn't say anything.</p><p>So I wait.</p><p>I'm still on top of him, a little scared to move, and he's still looking at me, but obviously he's miles away. I realize that I'm holding my breath, and something that feels a little like hope is emerging out of his silence.</p><p>He looks in my eyes again, really sees me, and then in a split second, he's pushing me off of him. I land on my feet, but before I can say anything, he's crossed the room and is rifling through my purse.</p><p>"What are you doing?" I whisper. I don't know why I'm whispering. My heart is hammering so hard it hurts.</p><p>He doesn't answer, but pulls out my little black planner and sits on the edge of his bed, flipping through it. I sit beside him as he reaches this week, seeing 'Date with Norman' written in for tonight – well, last night. He crosses it out.</p><p>"Scorpius –"</p><p>"Wait a second," he interrupts urgently. Like he's about to lose his nerve.</p><p>He flips to the next page – the next week – and moves his palm through my schedule. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. He stops at Thursday and writes in neat little letters, 'Get a cat.' I almost laugh.</p><p>Then at Friday, he pulls down to 6 p.m. and writes slowly. I can see his hands shaking just a little.</p><p>'Date with Scorpius.'</p><p>Before I even realize what I'm saying, I blurt, "You know, most people ask first."</p><p>He bursts into laughter, and so do I.</p><p>"There it is," he says, tossing my planner and pen towards my bag and turning to me again. "That right there is exactly why I'd be mad enough to date someone."</p><p>I have no idea what he's talking about. "It's not mad to date someone," I protest.</p><p>"It is," he says, still chuckling as he takes my waist, pulling me back into him. "But I just realized I wouldn't be able to go back to the Owlery otherwise."</p><p>I smack him gently at his chest, but I'm happy. So happy. "Wanker. I take it all back. The Owlery is mine."</p><p>Laughing, he kisses me again, pushing me back into the mattress.</p><p>A/N: Hope you liked the ending :) next is the epilogue. Thank you so much for reading, responding and reviewing my story, I appreciate it so much!</p><p>I'm working on another scorose story as well, so please follow my author page if you'd like to see it. :)</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter Ten: Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Ten: Epilogue</p><p>Two and a half months later</p><p>"I knew having a girlfriend would ruin my life."</p><p>"You are such a whiner. Why am I dating you again?"</p><p>It's a sunny Saturday afternoon, and instead of being outside in the beautiful weather, I find myself slumped over Scorpius' kitchen table, hands over my eyes. Scorpius is sitting beside me, hands crossed over his chest and glaring at me. Evan Zabini is across the room in the kitchen, eavesdropping, but pretending not to.</p><p>"Okay," I say, for what feels like the millionth time, "this isn't a big deal. It doesn't have to be."</p><p>"Okay," Scorpius repeats, clearly annoyed.</p><p>I look at him, taking a deep breath before speaking. "You're tired of having to sneak over to my flat, right?"</p><p>"Right."</p><p>"You got chased by the goblins twice in the last two months."</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"So, the most logical thing to do is…"</p><p>"Get you to move out of Diagon Alley so we don't have to think about this anymore," he finishes. I moan and look to the ceiling.</p><p>I have been trying to convince Scorpius to pay off those damn Goblins so we don't have to completely avoid Diagon Alley all the time. It's a bit difficult for me, since I fucking live there, but he's been adamant. I finally convinced him last weekend to do it, but lo and behold, he's been hiding in his apartment all day.</p><p>"Why is my boyfriend an idiot?" I wonder aloud.</p><p>"To be fair, Rose," Evan says, calling over from the kitchen where he is drinking his coffee, "he did tell you he doesn't believe in interest, remember? On the first date."</p><p>I turn to glare at Evan. I thought we were becoming friends. "I'm not going to listen to someone who is in his pyjamas at three in the afternoon."</p><p>"It's the weekend!" he protests, walking to where we're sitting. "Anyway, I was there. You two were making googly eyes and he was telling you how he doesn't believe in all that."</p><p>Scorpius gestures to Evan, as if that changes anything. "There. Witness."</p><p>"So what if you told me?" I point out. "That doesn't change the fact that you have to get one of us to convert your money to Muggle cash all the time. Or that we can't just hang out in Diagon Alley on a nice Saturday afternoon like today and have ice cream at Fortescue's."</p><p>"Not the bloody ice cream again," Scorpius groans.</p><p>"Hey, ice cream is an important part of my life. One that I am not willing to compromise on."</p><p>He lets out a reluctant chuckle, and then glares at me. "Oi, don't make me laugh."</p><p>"Fortescue's does have good ice cream, though," Evan says.</p><p>"Not helping, mate," Scorpius says, pressing his lips together in an attempt not to laugh.</p><p>"Come on, Scorpius," I say, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. "It's going to take ten minutes. You just got a big raise two weeks ago. It's not going to hurt you."</p><p>"It will hurt my soul, quite deeply and literally."</p><p>"It's not even possible for it to hurt literally."</p><p>He groans again. "Rose, I can't believe that you're making me become a responsible adult."</p><p>"Actually, Rose was in your face with her grown-up planner on that first date," Evan says, enjoying this too much for my liking. "I was there for that too."</p><p>"Proof," I say, crossing my arms against my chest. "You knew from the start."</p><p>Scorpius sighs. "I knew I should've ditched you halfway through. You got me addicted to tacos and you're trying to get me to hand over money I shouldn't owe."</p><p>"Also gave you the best shag of your life," I mutter, making Scorpius grin.</p><p>"Aaaand I'm out of here," Evan announces, heading back to his room and shutting the door.</p><p>There's a pause, then Scorpius whistles. "So, speaking of shagging…"</p><p>"No way," I say immediately. "Not until you do this."</p><p>"So now you're withholding sex?" he says, horrified.</p><p>"Absolutely."</p><p>"You monster," he whispers, and I almost burst out laughing. But I keep it in.</p><p>"You're just paying off your debt," I tell him, "and you've already done most of it! Just the interest is left."</p><p>"Exactly! Interest isn't even real."</p><p>My head hits the table with a thunk. "Scorpius, you're killing me."</p><p>"You're killing me," he shoots back.</p><p>And I thought I was the immature one.</p><p>"You promised," I say weakly, sounding muffled because of the table. "You gave me your word."</p><p>"We're only doing this because you live in Diagon Alley," he says, patting my hair. "You shouldn't live there. Your flat is crap."</p><p>"Too bad," I say, lifting my head again. "I have a lease until next year. So until then, you have to sneak around Diagon Alley."</p><p>"I Apparate all the time," he protests.</p><p>"Yeah, and it's annoying as hell." Scorpius popping out of thin air and so loudly is terrible for my heart.</p><p>"I could Floo," he suggests.</p><p>"You don't have a fireplace in this flat."</p><p>"I can improvise."</p><p>I feel the corners of my mouth twitch. "You're the absolute worst, you know that?"</p><p>"I just think breaking your lease is the best option here," he insists, leaning back and running a hand through his hair.</p><p>"And I know Gringotts is going to close in an hour," I say, pushing my chair back and standing up. "Let's go."</p><p>He stares up at me in disbelief. "You're really going to make me do this."</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>He thinks for a moment. "Ice cream is on you, then."</p><p>"Deal."</p><p>"And you're spending the night here," he says, "no clothes allowed."</p><p>I glare at him. "I already said deal."</p><p>"Fine," he says, heading into his bedroom to get his money.</p><p>I rub my eyes and sigh.</p><p>He's lucky he's so fit.</p><p>I'm waiting outside Fortescue's for only eight minutes (yes, I counted) when he comes up to me, hands in his pockets, uncharacteristically quiet. He stands beside me, leans his back against the building wall and sighs.</p><p>I poke his leg with my toe. "What happened?"</p><p>Without saying a word, he takes his hands out of his pockets, pulling them inside out.</p><p>I raise an eyebrow, amused. "Are you done, drama queen?"</p><p>"I'm broke," he emphasizes before stuffing his pockets back in.</p><p>"It's an account. Your money is there to take when you need it." I pause. "You didn't put all your money in there, right?"</p><p>"No, of course not." He leans over and puts his arm around my shoulder. "You may have been right."</p><p>I grin at him. "What did you say? I didn't quite hear you."</p><p>"Let's finally get this ice cream you're always going on about," he says loudly, but he places a kiss on my cheek before dragging us inside.</p><p>Well, he's nothing if not extremely entertaining.</p><p>As we're sitting down at a table with our bowls - mine is Butterbeer flavoured, his is pumpkin - I realize that we've spent nearly the entire summer together.</p><p>Our first date ended up lasting well into the afternoon the next day. The following weekend, we had our second date, and so far, I don't have any regrets. I wasn't sure what to expect after that amazing first date we had, and nothing will probably top it, if I'm being honest. But that doesn't make us less exciting.</p><p>Scorpius is a fun person to be around, and we don't even have to be drunk for it. What more can I ask for?</p><p>Plus, he got along with Albus and Lily, who are the closest to me and the only ones in my family who know about us. I'm not rushing Scorpius into facing my giant family just yet – that might scare him off.</p><p>"I like your dress," he says, interrupting my thoughts. I smile at him.</p><p>"How's the ice cream?" I ask.</p><p>He shrugs and licks his spoon clean. "You're way too dramatic about it."</p><p>I stick my tongue out at him, which makes him laugh. "Evan will agree with me."</p><p>"He has a strict rule about not eating ice cream past September."</p><p>"I can't believe September is in two weeks," I say, a little sadly. Work always picks up in the autumn, like clockwork. "It came too soon."</p><p>"I don't mind the fall," Scorpius says. "It reminds me of Hogwarts."</p><p>"That's true."</p><p>"But now that you mention it," he says, sitting up straighter all of a sudden, "I wanted to ask you something."</p><p>"Okay."</p><p>"And you can say no," he says quickly, like he's afraid the question will piss me off. "Don't feel pressured by anything I say."</p><p>I suppress a grin. "Okay, sure."</p><p>"I was thinking of going to Paris before the end of summer," he says in a rush. "I've been there before, but it was such a bore with my mother and father. I was thinking it would be nice to spend a weekend there that isn't all about going to expensive restaurants and shops and all that."</p><p>I nod. "Yeah, that sounds awful. There's so much more to see than all that."</p><p>"So I was thinking," he says, hesitance in his voice, "do you want to come with?"</p><p>My mouth drops open in surprise. I thought he would've wanted to go with his mates. "To Paris?"</p><p>"I know it's a bit early for us," he says nervously, "and you're probably busy, but I thought it might be fun, just the two of us."</p><p>Merlin, he's so cute.</p><p>I actually grin this time and lean forward. "Why so nervous, Scorpius?"</p><p>"I'm not nervous," he says defensively.</p><p>"Like hell. Look what you've done to your ice cream!"</p><p>He looks down and realizes he has chopped it up in small, uneven pieces everywhere that are all melting.</p><p>"I'm just making it digestible," he says.</p><p>I snort.</p><p>"So do you want to come?" he asks again. "I know it's only been a couple of months of us dating, but honestly, I wouldn't want to do this trip with anyone else."</p><p>Something inside of me melts. And it's not the ice cream.</p><p>I think I'm understanding just how much this trip is going to mean to him.</p><p>"Yeah," I find myself saying. Shrugging, even. The fact that it's only been a couple of months doesn't really faze me for some reason. It's hitting me that I trust Scorpius more than I think I do. "Yeah, I would love to go."</p><p>"Yeah?" he confirms, sounding relieved.</p><p>"Let's go next weekend."</p><p>"Wait, really?" He sounds surprised.</p><p>"Yes," I say. There's no reason not to.</p><p>(I never ended up getting that cat, anyway.)</p><p>"Wow," he says, breaking into a grin, "look at you, being all spontaneous."</p><p>The awe in his voice makes me blush. "Shut up."</p><p>"Never," he says, his arm coming around my shoulder and squeezing me to his side. He presses a kiss in my hair. "It'll be amazing, Rose."</p><p>And honestly, I agree. No second thoughts, no overthinking.</p><p>It will be our next adventure.</p><p>A/N: Thanks for reading, and double thanks to everyone who reviews! So happy you reached the end of this and hopefully you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)</p><p>New story coming soon!</p>
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